SlyCooper Book2: Spy Cooper
by Kit-Karamak
Summary: STORY IS COMPLETE. This is the SECOND story of my trilogy, which takes place AFTER Lament of Carmelita but BEFORE Dawn of Progeny. Thank you for reading. I decided on a "sweet" ending instead of an intense climatic one.
1. Finally!

**SPY COOPER**

A new fan-fiction

By:

Kit-Karamak

(aka)

KEN WEAVER

I would like to dedicate this story to _you_. You, who happen to be reading this very text at this very moment, _thank you_!

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Disclaimer: _This story may not be reproduced for a profit by ANYONE. The characters and Intellectual Properties, the names and the game Sly Cooper, are registered trademarks and are copyrighted material belonging to Sucker Punch and Sony Of America. This story is a nonprofit fan fiction used for entertainment purposes only. All original characters and original story concepts are by Kenneth Herbert Weaver Junior! _

_You may redistribute this story ANYWHERE you wish, so long as you don't earn a profit on it! All rights to Sly Cooper are reserved to Sony and Sucker Punch, concerning profit and, therefore, they are the sole owners of this story (which means they're the only ones allowed to simply sell this story without anyone's permission!). Please DO redistribute this story (for free)! _

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A sequel written in the storyline of

Lament Of Carmelita

By Kit Karamak

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**SPY COOPER**

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Prologue:

**The words at the top of the white sheet of paper read "Sylvester Cooper"** but as far as the scruffy, disheveled raccoon was concerned, his birth certificate simply said 'Sly'. Had Paris not been so windy today, his fur would have been neat, trim and well maintained but one couldn't simply control Mother Nature, now could they? His mocha-colored gaze lowered, continuing to peruse the page in silence. It was an interesting proposition and the pay was easily as good as the incentives offered. The problem rooted itself in the existance of a monstrous drawback. A catch like this required some measure of thought.

The lithe yet athletic raccoon, Sly Cooper, sat upon a dusty sofa with his feet up on a coffee table. He sat in the afternoon shadow of two well-dressed gentlemen both of whom stood opposite of him, the sunlight filtering in through the living room windows and resting upon their backs and shoulders. It gave them a strange sort of ethereal glow as if to add to the fact that they were important. The fact was, they _were_ important; that's all there was to it.

"Let me see that identification again?" Sly asked, lifting his eyes. The men, both of which were canine, drew out their wallets. The black Labrador on the left was equally proportionate to the Chow-mixed Sheppard on the right. As if rehearsed, they flipped their wallets open in unison. On the top was an identification card with their names and their mailing address. On the bottom flap of the wallet, each had a badge that identified them as members of the American Embassy located in Lyon, France.

Sly was _still_ so incredibly amused by all of this. "And you found my cottage using American Government Intelligence?" His eyes dropped back to the paper, picking up where he left off, half way down the page. Each agent rescinded their wallet, replacing them into their pockets.

The Lab on the left replied, "That is correct, Sir. There are unofficial 'perks' to this offer as well. We've been briefed on your psychological profile; it only seems obvious to make these perks based on the fact that we want to make offers that would appeal to you, but it's not something we can actually document because it's not exactly something we can _legally_ offer."

Holding a hint of sarcasm in his voice, the Raccoon simply said, "Neat; go on." The Master Thief placed a thumb over the page before him, just to mark where he left off. His eyes rose back to the two canines. "All the 'unwritten' perks are usually the good ones, anyhow."

"These are things that we can't put on paper," said the Sheppard. "But if you're successful in this case, it will benefit more than just _you_."

The Labrador nodded in agreement to his partner's explanation then added, "Interpol Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox will receive a pay raise and promotion, your team's driver will receive an offer from a major Automobile manufacturing brand-name to design a van… your demolitions teammate will be offered the chance to begin a career with the National Aeronautics Space Administration in Texas OR the National Security Administration in Maryland, over in the United States; the same offer stands for his girlfriend. Finally, since monetary supplement wouldn't hold any appeal to someone who has inherited a private, unsubstantiated amount of fortune, America would simply offer you one personal favor of your choosing; non-transferable by means of Will, with an expiration date of your death, should you not make good on it by that time."

"That's," Sly trailed off for a moment, thinking just how happy everyone else would be with those perks, if he simply took this commission from the United States Government. "Pretty sweet," he finally concluded. "But my question is this: There's a line here, in this contract, which basically says failure or 'capture' will be met by the United States completely disavowing all knowledge of … well… everything. So, if one of my team mates becomes captured, you can't send in troops to help them?"

"That is correct," The chocolate-furred canine said, softly. "As far as further questions, I would ask that you refrain from speaking them out loud. They can wait for when your entire team is assembled at the location of our choosing, after you've chosen to accept. We need complete consent from every member of your team."

"We're not mercenaries," Sly explained. "The term 'team', 'family' or 'cult' doesn't really bode well. Let's stick with 'gang', shall we?"

"Very well," said the Lab with a confirming nod. "But you'll be unofficially hired as Mercenaries. There are also incentives that we're putting in writing; we're not asking for an answer today. We're looking for a decision by tomorrow at noon. Report to the Embassy in Lyon with _everyone_. There will be American military support in some parts of your mission; such as insertion methods and minimal extraction situations, but even the Seals have failed this particular mission… thus our decision to commission you and your comrades."

"All right, I gotcha," Sly said, rubbing his chin. "Noon, huh? And you're contract, here, says that if I succeed, my "Criminal Name" as well as that of my friends becomes one of those little details that get swept under the carpet?"

"Yes," said the Labrador, drawing the word out slowly before adding, "We've worked something out with the French Government concerning this issue. It will all go down as if it was a mistake in the records; that you've _never_ actually been officially proven as a criminal with an actual record."

"Oh, really," Sly mused, with an expression of pondering, tapping his chin. "Seals _failed_ this mission? As in U.S. _Navy Seals_, right?"

The Chow-mixed Sheppard immediately looked uncomfortable. "Again, let's just start saving those questions for when we're in a secure area, please."

"See you tomorrow," Sly replied playfully giving a 'thumbs up' signal. "I've got people to call, although I do have _one_ more question, regarding this entire ordeal that I absolutely _must_ know, _right now_." He paused then blurted it out… "Your unofficial perks seem to involve Inspector Fox, besides just the members of my group. How does she play into this?"

"Because they're not going to be briefed in this situation, Interpol will be sending her in to stop this theft from happening although that's not her primary objective; she doesn't even know what's going on yet, neither do they. She'll be assigned to investigate the first attempt that was made on this object," the lab said in a very blunt tone. "Do _not_ tell her of your involvement. Do _not_ tell her that it was Navy Seals. We've already disavowed knowledge of their mission; they were executed under the assumption that they were members of a thief guild. But believe me, this is the most important thing you've ever been commissioned to steal; not to mention it's the most important thing you've ever stolen."

"All right, all right," Sly returned, holding his paws up, "I won't ask anymore questions. I just wanted to see how Carmelita would be playing into this. You realize that this hurts my chances of working things out with her, right?"

"That's not our problem," said the Sheppard. "Although we realize your ties to her are important, she'll be in just as much danger as yourself. This mission and the intrinsic situation revolving around the object that we need are paramount. So long as the object winds up in our paws, the mission will be a success and she will be promoted, even if she feels her mission had failed by not identifying the Seals or stopping the theft. You _cannot_ tell her that you're working for us; she would report it to Interpol and it would go public… In such a situation, we would disavow any knowledge… your contract would be forfeit.

"Also, you cannot allow her to be injured or killed on this mission, while simultaneously avoiding capture by her… if she dies, it becomes a _media_ _event_. It's a tricky situation; trickier now than when the Seals failed. Needless to say, the American Government is growing somewhat frustrated and desperate." The Lab drew his paw out, as if trying to silence his partner but both knew that this visit was actually a sales pitch designed to intrigue Sly, in order to get his help.

"She's being assigned even if I don't accept?" Cooper asked. "I know you said no more questions, but this is kinda important and would help me seal the deal."

"Her flight leaves before _yours_ does," said the Labrador. "She may have already received this assignment; if not, then she will when she arrives at her desk tomorrow morning."

"See you at noon," Sly replied with a nod. As far as he was concerned, the deal was already sealed… _someone_ had to make sure Inspector Fox remained safe, especially if there was so much secrecy going on. He decided it was time to pay her a visit before things got underway. But first, he would have to see these agents to the door then call the gang together.

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**An Inspector for Interpol, **Carmelita Montoya Fox had not seen Sly Cooper since the incident involving Prague and Panama, forty-five days ago. She'd thought of him a few times and her dreams were less vicious, but she was so hyper-focused on her job that those thoughts were never given the chance to evolve into longing or desire to see his face. At least not yet. Did she love him? She wasn't sure she could accept it just yet; of course she adored and obsessed over him, but he'd been avoiding her and she had to bottle her emotions… 

She knew she was struggling with an unhealthy obsession involving Sly Cooper but love… that was a strong word. She knew she'd slipped up and confessed her love to him in the past but things were different right now. He was exonerated in France, but his criminal record and family name was still at large in many other countries. Regardless, he always managed to surprise her. She didn't like having her affections toyed with; getting romanced by him and then being turned into a laughing stock at Interpol … that was difficult.

The thing was, Carmelita was an emotional woman. As quick as her temper could flair up at a crime scene, her eyes could tear up at sappy old romance movies. Of course, she didn't like mixing business with pleasure and so most of the people on The Job never saw the 'other' emotional side of her. Now that Sly had gone over a year without practicing criminal activities, she was finally ready to believe in him, even if she'd not acknowledged that fact to herself just yet. Sly seemed to be trying and that really did mean something to her… even if she still had a few bad memories about him from the distant past. More than once she had felt like the laughing stock of Interpol when he got away after confusing her with charm.

It didn't happen to her this most recent time; they parted ways after Panama with the promise of a future 'date' but that never happened either. Maybe he was avoiding her, or maybe he was out stealing again, but part of her still had some sort of secret faith in her heart that he was simply recuperating from the recent ordeal and was, in fact, not out breaking the law again. After all, he'd promised her and sealed that promise with a kiss. If he _was_ out there stealing again, it would prove that his word of honor, as a man, meant nothing.

Okay, so maybe she _did_ love him… just a little. Or maybe she was fooling herself and simply stifling her true emotions regarding him; she wasn't sure. But he _did_ break up with her about a year ago and _that_ hurt. He'd had a bout with amnesia and she suckered him into joining Interpol as Constable Cooper. It lasted about six months and they even worked a few cases together with him acting as her protégé. Then, one night out of the blue, he up and left her.

She later found out that he had learned that someone was rebuilding the machine responsible for terrorizing his family for generations. She found out that he ducked out of the relationship in order to ensure the safety of her and their future-possibility of a family. It was a sweet gesture but… it'd been _forty-five days_ since she last saw him. _That_ was disconcerting. Not even a damn phone call. Nothing! She could only hope that he wasn't out stealing, again. She could handle just about anything else, but if she found out that he broke his promise in regards to thievery, she would view it as a personal and very intimate betrayal of her trust.

The sandy-furred vixen picked a piece of lint off of her evening gown then turned back towards the rest of her apartment. It was a nice place; top floor with a balcony and a good view of Paris, but it wasn't as large as the cottage she'd dreamed about as a little girl. Of course, now that Sly had all that inheritance, she and he could afford a beautiful cottage on the sea-side cliffs of Normandy; she quickly scolded herself for such silly thoughts.

Carmelita, normally seen as an intense, passionate and strong woman, was something else entirely when she was alone…. Nobody really had any clue, but the fact of the matter was simple: when Carmelita was alone, she could be downright… well… _girly_. Well, maybe not always but sure enough, she was proving this to herself now by picking up a pillow that was on the living room sofa. Sure, she'd used it to prop herself up while watching TV earlier, but now she was hugging it on the way back to her bedroom.

Halfway down the hall, she pivoted on her heel, doing an elegant twirl. She'd had ballroom dancing lessons as a little girl and was quite the accomplished dancer in her spare time. It was great exercise and made her feel feminine, after a day at the office, let alone an afternoon at the shooting range. She stopped right at the bedroom door, leaned backwards in memory of being dipped at the palace outside of Calcutta, then gracefully moved into the darkened room. She paused and reached for the light switch.

There, lying across her bed was Sly Cooper. He had a rose in his teeth and his blue cap was in his right paw, tucked over his chest. His shoes were on the floor but his feet were crossed at the ankles; his infamous blue shirt was wrinkle free and neatly pressed in all the right places. Carmelita Fox gave the pillow another tight squeeze, turning away from the light switch. "Oh, God, what I would give to be in the arms of…" She murmured softly.

Sly's smile broadened, expecting for her eyes to connect with him at any second. His pose was picture perfect, the long-stem rose clinched in his muzzle, the devious and sexy look in his eyes. He knew he was a romantic and he knew he would startle the hell out of her in just half a second…

Carmelita's heart stopped and the breath in her lungs rushed out in an unexpected screech of surprise. It wasn't that she was frightened or necessarily startled; she never reacted in such a way over silly Halloween gags at the office… no, she screamed because she was shocked… Yes, shocked to have just realized that someone saw her being girly, silly and running around the house in a nightgown! Her mind didn't yet register that she'd dropped the pillow and covered her muzzle with both paws, crisscrossed over one another.

Cooper's grin widened even more, if that were possible. In his deepest, cutest voice rendition of Pepé La Pew, he said, "Hello _baby_." The words were spoken carefully so that the rose didn't muffle the exaggerated accent of the word that sounded like 'bébe'. Like a deer in headlights, Carmelita was frozen for a moment, just gawking at him. Indigo strands of her hair flopped forth, partially obscuring her left eye, giving her a sultry, coquettish look. Sly waggled his brows in approval then winked playfully.

Where her prior statement had trailed off, she now simply shrieked, "…Sly Cooper!" For some reason, this amused the raccoon to no end as he replied with his most dazzling, masculine, and flirtiest expression. A twinkle of mirth gleamed in his gaze which was just enough to restart her heart. It pitter-pattered in anticipation and yet it pounded as fiercely as she was blushing. Carmelita just stood there with her paws covering her mouth.

Sly, being an outgoing, stereotypical Casanova, sat up on the mattress. He then put his paws on the front bedposts, leaning forward. Quite suddenly, he shifted his weight into his paws and loosely somersaulted off the bed, quickly embracing her into his arms, still holding the rose in his teeth. Again, he spoke over the stem, every so softly saying, "What was that about being in someone's arms?" His voice was a whisper, his tones were intensely personal and directed only to her. It was a side of him that he showed to no other, especially since she accused him of _not_ being romantic, last month in Panama.

"You're… so," She suddenly found that she was at a loss for words; blushing furiously and standing before him in a nightgown. "Incorrigible and," she continued, searching for words to say, if not so that she could simply force the breath from her lungs that she'd been holding for nearly half a minute, now. "So, ridiculous and… stupid…!" Carmelita trailed off, her lower lip nearly trembling from the adrenaline that had been added to her blood after being startled. Why did he suddenly come back? Why was he doing this to her…?

Sly knelt before her, causing her breath to catch in her throat again. He lifted the pillow, standing back up and placed it against her chest, between them, with the rose now in his left paw. He whispered once more, telling her, "You dropped this." His lips were just inches from her own and her eyes were distant and starry looking. "And," he added with just a hint more tone in his voice now, "What did I tell you about calling me by my middle name?" he chided gently, referring to the 'stupid' comment. His grin broadened once more. Her heart was racing; he came back. _He came back!_ Here he was!

He leaned closer, as if to kiss her. Her eyes began to lower, gazing down the end of her nose at his approaching masculine visage. Out of the corner of her eyes, she finally noticed that he was wearing his blue shirt and had his cap still tucked over his chest in his right paw. The rose was in his left…. _His blue shirt_. She suddenly turned her head away from him, her voice rolling over her tongue, ruining the moment. "You're in your 'work shirt'… did you lie to me and steal?" Her own form of convincing caused her heart to drop.

"I simply thought I'd wear something familiar," he replied, dropping the hat and rose at her feet. His paws lifted, cradling either side of her face, bringing her eyes back to him so that their gaze locked. "Besides, _my_ nightgown is in the laundry."

She flashed a bit of a smile at his joke but part of her still didn't trust herself around him. "But, I mean," Carmelita found herself at a loss of words again. Did she have Spasmodic Dysphonia all of a sudden? She cursed herself, trying to say everything that was on her mind at all the same time. The overload of thoughts processed all at once and yet the only words that came out were to the tune of, "But did you _cheat_ on me with that _cane_? You gave me your _word_."

Sly lifted his right paw, placing his index finger to her lips, leaning forward so that his own lips were on the other side of that finger. Their noses touched and her heart went from pounding to still at all the same time. The only thing that separated their lips from a kiss was his fingertip. A _kiss;_ it was so close to happening! So _close_ to a kiss! The kind that happened when they defeated Clockwerk. The kind that happened when he faked amnesia and asked her to go steady. It was practically happening…! She was a mishmash of emotions and they were all bubbling up inside of her chest. Oh, how she wanted to take charge, grab his shoulders and kiss him deeply. She couldn't; she was frozen in his embrace!

Sly decided to play it confident and cool. He knew she was suddenly a mess and took advantage of that fact by adding, "The only thing I came to steal was your breath and your lips." Of course she wouldn't go for a line like that; no, he used it to help her break out of this strange and sudden bout with stage-fright.

A breath was found! She drew it in, taking advantage of it, and said, "If this is another nightmare where you suddenly die, I'm going to hurt someone." Her words were slightly muffled by his finger and the proximity of his lips, on just the other side of that slender digit. Carmelita was practically trembling from the thinning of adrenaline in her blood. She had goosebumps under her fur, causing her tail to be puffier than usual; part of her was glad it was hidden, coiled around her legs, under the nightgown.

"_This_ is no nightmare," Sly replied. He wasn't trying to imply that _he_ was a 'Mister Dreamy' by any means but he _was_ certain that their proximity was quite the opposite of any definition of nightmare. He then re-cupped the side of her face, removing that finger, and did exactly what she half-wished she had the guts and control to accomplish…

He kissed her. It wasn't just any kiss. A chaste kiss would have been a disappointment. A deep, passionate _French Kiss_ would have been overboard and too soon. _That_ kind of kiss was something to work up to… No, he started off slow. It was _just right_. His lips pressed against hers, meshing softly. It was a soft nibble on the pliable flesh of her velvet tiers and it was _damn good_. Simultaneous to pressing his muzzle to her own, he also breathed inwards deeply, as if to inhale the very scent of his lover, Inspector Carmelita Fox.

_Now_ it was time to delve deeper; the velveteen tip of his tongue tenderly pressed against her pursed lips, gently vying for entry. It took a moment but she couldn't help herself to deepening the intensely passionate kiss, parting her lips to capture that warm, pink tip. Their tongues dueled for a moment, not so very different from a dance… they moved together and yet against one another, swirling and sliding with the deepening of an embrace… she pressed herself to the pillow that was still between their bodies.

How long did the kiss actually last? She couldn't be sure and was glad to have lost track of the time. Her body tingled, on fire with love and desire. Some special part of her heart and her body was awakened by his sensuality. While innocent and naïve in the art of love making, she was in tune with herself well enough to simply know that she was undeniably turned on by their kiss.

Cooper, on the other hand, was just as inexperienced. And yet, he had the confidence to let himself feel natural while sharing in the kiss with her. His tongue drew back and he began to nip at the corner of her maw, moving to the left, trailing tiny kisses down over her jaw, maneuvering down the right side of her neck. She was on fire, sweating the bullets of desire from the heat that was building in her torso, in her gut. A yearning ache burned with need under her flesh; she was hungry for him as a mate and yet she was as completely and totally satisfied as a woman could ever hope to feel. How could this proximity fulfill and complete her? She didn't know; the betrayals of his thievery were forgotten for now and she wrapped herself up in his essence as if it was tangible.

Sly debated; should he trail his kisses _down_ her neck into dangerous territory or should he move upwards and nibble at her ear? The sensation of being torn only lasted for a split second, then the decision was made. Soft little suckles at her neck were transmuted into little baby kisses; he slowly made his way up the side of her neck, smothering the side of her face in affectionate physical symbols of love. She could suddenly feel his warm breath against her ear and it made her shutter. His soft moan of content gave her shivers; she clung to him.

Once his lips were pressed against her ear, a soft whisper was offered to the one he adored. "Tell me, would you be even happier if we had this every day _and_ you had a promotion at work?"

Giddy, the vixen did something very uncharacteristic for a change; she giggled. "Why, I think that's the only thing that could possibly be better than having you here right now. You _really_ gave up stealing, right?"

"If you ask me," Sly said carefully, "I never stole to begin with; I took back what _didn't_ belong to other thieves. I gave back to the deserving, even if it wasn't mine to give. But, to answer your question from earlier, I've not stolen anything." _Yet_ was the forgotten keyword, here. Part of him knew that this damn job was going to hurt her ability to trust in him to some degree. He wondered how many times he could be forgiven; hopefully he had at _least_ three full strikes.

"Behave yourself for me," she said, almost begging. "What brings you here, tonight?"

"Besides a kiss?" he asked in reply to her question. After a moment, he added, "I received a commission Government job. It was an intriguing offer; I have to talk to the guys before I agree. Who knows, maybe I can change my line of work, Carmelita. One day, Bentley and Penelope might be able to score a job with NASA, maybe Murray could get even further into the automotive world and … who knows, maybe I could score a job as a government agent and we could, you know," he wanted to say '_raise a family_' but that would be rushing things a little.

"You could always come back and try Interpol again," she reminded him. "But a job is a sign of responsibility; I'm proud of you Sly," Carmelita told the man whose arms were enveloping her body; she buried her nose in the crook of his neck. It wasn't only the perfect place on the perfect crook, it was warm and she could inhale deeply of his scent. The scent of a man, especially one she was secretly in love with, was quite an inviting thing for a woman to behold. Her paws snuck passed the pillow, stopping at the hem of his shirt. Beneath it, he wore a t-shirt tonight and for some reason that made her grin.

Sly knew he had to break the bad news to her eventually. With a sigh of regret, he told her, "I can't stay much longer; I have to be in Lyon tomorrow. I'm going to the Embassy building for details on what they're gonna pay me for but I'll keep you in the loop more than I have over the last month and a half. I'm sorry I've not been around, I've just had a lot of things to get in order, after that last bout with Clockwerk." He lowered his eyes a bit then offered her a secret sort of smile. What she _didn't_ know is that he had been thinking over something Panda King had told him…

As he recalled, King had said something to the effect of, "_Cooper, if either of you died, the survivor would mourn both the loss of their soul mate and the relationship that never happened. Time spent apart is time lost that can never be retrieved_." The old man had been right; Sly felt as though every day he _wasn't_ dating Carmelita was time lost.

"I'll make you a deal," she told him. "If you don't cooperate, I'll handcuff you to my bedposts and make you sleep at my feet."

Cooper's chest was flush against her own, but they were still separated by the pillow she'd hugged in the hallway, earlier. "While that sounds inviting, if not fairly kinky, I'm curious as to what your 'plea bargain' could be."

"I want the t-shirt off your back before you leave," she said, referring to the shirt beneath his blue work shirt. Cooper tried not to chuckle, wanting to take her condition seriously.

After a moment, he finally said, "Deal." He had _no idea_ what her plans for it consisted off but he wasn't about to argue, either.

Sly drew his head back, leaned forward to give her a quick, soft kiss upon her lips, then backed up a few steps and turned around. Her paws snaked back around the pillow she was holding, as if in substitution of his body. He faced away from her, lifting off both of his shirts, together. Carmelita sucked in her breath, slowly. His lower lumbar-area was sculpted and had athletic definition. His back muscles and the line of his spine, which her fingers simply itched to trace, were cut enough to take away her breath… he was an impressive gentleman specimen, on the edge of brawny, if he hadn't been so lithe.

He then lifted both shirts from over his head and pulled the t-shirt from the sweater. Her eyes danced over the shape of his well defined shoulders and the nape of his neck. Like a typical man, he balled up the shirt and wedged it between his knees then began to pull the sweater back down over his arms and head. He started to turn towards her, lifting his muzzle up and through the hole of the sweater. Toned abs and the chiseled definition of his chest were enough to make her swoon but she bit her tongue, watching him.

The sweater was drawn back down over his flesh and fur then he reached for the t-shirt between his knees and approached her with it. Part of him knew what it was that she had in mind with it… sure, she might wear it to bed tomorrow night, but he had another idea she was most likely already keen to do… Sly snatched the pillow from her, fitting it with his t-shirt. He then wedged it back into her arms, knelt to one knee before her and offered a grin up at her. He picked up his cap and flicked it off of his thumb so that it landed, squarely seated, upon his brow. He then snatched up the rose and stood up before her.

His paws lifted, sifting his fingers through the locks of her thick cobalt tresses. When he was done, the rose was in her hair and his paws trailed back down to either side of her face, cupping her cheeks once more. He leaned forward and placed a sensual kiss against her lips again. "I'm sorry for the lack of communication; it won't happen again. I worked through my boyish problems and I'm ready to move forward. I don't know how long this job will last but when I get back, we'll go and dance the night away in _Bollywood_, then eat curry until we're sick."

"You're behaving?" she asked one last time, wrapping her arms back around the pillow, now fitted with his t-shirt.

Cooper was careful and crafty in the way he worded his response. "I've not stolen a single thing since grabbing that Hate Chip from the Interpol server… before that, my last heist was _before_ the amnesia."

"All right," she said. "Don't betray my trust, Sly." Her words struck his heart with a secret pang. He didn't want to but he was about to steal something for the American Government; whatever it was, they acted as though this object or artifact had the power to destroy or preserve world peace. Not only that, but it was his way of giving Carmelita the promotion he felt she'd deserved.

Sly nodded in reply; his response was calm and relaxed so as not to worry her. "I'll see you again, soon. Maybe even before the job is completely finished, hmm?" If only he could tell her about this new job! It was a damn shame that he had to keep _that_ secret from her; it felt awkward. "Maybe tomorrow? I want to get back to where we left off when we were dating last year… Can I just say I'm your boyfriend again?"

Carmelita's threat was kinda cute in a way; she simply said, "If you break my heart and steal again, I'll lock you in the deepest, blackest dungeon – so help me God."

"If I do, I'll be the one needing God's help," Sly replied with a relaxed chuckle. He cupped her face, guided her head to lower just slightly and then placed a tender kiss against her forehead. He backed away from her, heading towards the window to the left of her bed. For the first time, she realized that it was open; obviously his method of entrance. The late afternoon wind had apparently died down to the point where she didn't even realize when one of her windows had been left wide open. It led out to the balcony right next to the adjacent door, which was locked solid. "You're really quite lovely, Carmelita. Stay just like that," he told her, taking one last look at her before somersaulting into a back-flip, through the window.

On the way over the edge of the balcony railing, he snatched his cane which hung from the banister, waiting for him. His free paw went up over his cap, holding it down on his head as his body began to pick up momentum, dropping down the side of her apartment building. His body was consumed for a moment by a purple and red awning above the main entrance to her apartment complex. He then bound upwards and off of it, in a back flip, which ended in him drawing out his parasail.

Sly soared across the main street and disappeared down a back alley, breaking into a sprint. He was just warming up, performing a quick self-training seminar so that he would be absolutely ready before taking on such a dangerous endeavor for the United States of America. After all, he wanted to be at the top of his game and a quick recap of acrobatics was his way of convincing himself that he was ready to accomplish that which Navy Seals had somehow, mysteriously, failed at. It was one of the biggest questions on his mind for tomorrow's interview; that was for damn sure! How could a team of Seals fail a mission? He knew that the road ahead was going to be difficult but the payoff was well worth it. After all, Carmelita said so, herself; a promotion would add greatly to her happiness… he wanted to provide that happiness and all-the-while help to keep her alive. Sly knew she'd be in some kinda danger, soon. After all, he knew before she knew that her Chief was going to assign her to the whole ordeal, tomorrow morning at work…

* * *

CHAPTER -**1**-

_Finally!_

**Carmelita Montoya Fox, **an arresting Inspector with Interpol in her mid-twenties, was just sitting down to her desk with a cup of coffee. Being that she was Latin-persuasion, or possibly just because of personal preference, she loved things hot. Not necessarily the temperature of the coffee, but she did enjoy an occasional tongue-tingling dish or drink. This coffee, however, was quite the opposite today; it was _sweet_. Sweeter than usual, Inspector Fox found that she'd woken up with a sweet tooth today and went for one of the more sugary concoctions on the "latte list" at the local coffee shop.

It hit the spot.

Inspector Fox reached for a set of glasses on her desk and, setting the coffee cup aside, she quickly began to clean the lenses on her shirt. She used them for reading small print on documents, else her vision was picture perfect, especially as far as her piloting license was concerned. Setting them at the bridge of her nose, she began to peruse the daily news, part of her routine before looking over the day's assignments. Besides, it was the beginning of the month…

…That meant it was time for snagging all the good cases. She stayed at her desk, watching people go passed the office, heading for the coffee machine. Once the sixth person went by, she knew that the statistical probability of being the first to the case request folder was the highest. If she went too early, people would see her making a bee-line for it and change direction. If they didn't feel threatened and headed for the coffee machine like a Monday-morning zombie, then she knew she could strike with success. How else would she guarantee herself all the cases with Sly Cooper involved? Really, she just wanted to make sure his name _didn't_ pop up there, so she could be sure he was being honest to her. Why else would she buy expensive coffee from the corner store on a Monday morning? That Monday-morning corkboard was crucial.

The clever vixen left her newspaper and manila folders next to her coffee container, slipped out of the office and strolled down the hallway, heading for the corkboard next to the Chief's office. It was time to get her pick of the week done. Just as she'd thought; nobody was at the board – it was her time to strike!

Just as she passed the Chief's office, his head shot up. "Fox, get in here; I need to talk to you." She froze, clinching her paws tightly. She only had a window of opportunity on a Monday morning to get to that corkboard. Her eyes squinted, trying to read things off of it, while coming to a halt, in front of the Chief's open door. Well, at first glance, there was nothing to do with Cooper on the board but she needed to be closer, where she could make use of the glasses, to be sure. "Close the door behind yourself and pull up a chair," he continued.

The corner of her muzzle tugged back on the left side, in that "_It figures_" sort of expression. He lifted a paw as she came in, adding, "Wipe that smirk off of your muzzle, Inspector. I have an assignment for you; you won't even _need_ that stupid board today."

"…Oh?" She was fairly intrigued but still wanted to glance at the board, just in case. What could she say? She was OCD about certain things in her everyday life. Slowly, almost melodramatically, Carmelita pulled the door shut then approached his table and sat down on the chair across the desk from him. The semi-annoyed vixen drew the spectacles from her face and held them out to the side in her left paw. "What's new, Chief?"

"Well," he rotated about in his chair and picked up a folder from atop of the file cabinet off to the side. Swiveling back to face her, he dropped the entire folder on the desk right in front of her face. "Since being reinstated from your suspension, we have to do an evaluation. You did perfectly fine on it; I noted that your 'obsessions' seemed to have cleared up and your temperament has, dramatically, improved overall. It seems to me that you needed that week off. A vacation is damn good for the mind, body and spirit, Inspector."

"Oh I assure you," Carmelita chuckled softly, stealing a glance at the digital clock on Chief Barker's desk – still five more minutes before the line at the coffee machine would thin out… "I did very little relaxing during that week." Damn right; she helped to stop Clockwerk again, fought more bad guys than she could keep count of and took a bullet. The reminder of that incident had her right paw sink down to the section of her torso where she'd taken the shot. It still ached on most days but, this morning, it had been forgotten about halfway through her morning jog; maybe Cooper's visit from last night had something to do with that. It hadn't been all that bad, lately; in fact, it usually didn't bother during those jogs anymore, so long as it wasn't raining.

So she hadn't relaxed during her suspension; he wondered what was going on in her personal life that could be _better_ than taking a little personal time? But, to her explanation of not having relaxed during the week of her suspension, he could only nod. "So the rumors seem to suggest," the old canine muttered. "But anyhow," he continued, lifting his voice once more. "We have a report that five unidentified men, assumed to be part of some random thief guild, turned up dead. Execution-style endings for these guys; this quintet never had a chance, either. At first guess, we assumed they were military but so far, every country has denied them. Whether repudiated by someone powerful or whether they were just self-motivated mercenaries, these guys were peculiarly killed by people claiming to be museum guards."

Suddenly, Carmelita was more curious about this than the board, if only for a moment. "It sounds like you don't believe in that story for some reason," she replied, noting his tone of voice in the matter. He nodded in reply to her assumption.

"See, Fox, their recovered equipment suggests that this story is a lot of crap; a huge, stupid cover up story. Private mercenaries don't use the stuff that _these guys_ were using." The Chief just shrugged.

Carmelita tilted her head. "What? High-tech, high end stuff? Something hard to obtain?" She was pretty sure that most mercenaries used illegally modified high-tech stuff, _any_how. The Chief shook his head and shrugged.

"No," said Barker. "The exact opposite. A bunch of MacGyver's running around, using toothpicks to replicate friggin' …Primacord. Mercenaries don't substitute successful, well tested equipment for a bunch of sticks and stones. Third world terrorists usually acquisition powerful explosives out of cheap materials, but these guys were being purposefully primitive; someone is hiding something and I'm sending you to investigate who they were, what they were trying to take from the museum, and go from there."

"When do I leave, Chief?" Carmelita raised her brows.

Barker's tone was curt. "Pack your bags, Inspector Fox. Come back by the office when you're finished and we'll give you some gear and your plane tickets."

"Where am I headed?" she asked. It was a whirlwind event and she still wanted to take a quick glance at the corkboard, just to check up on Cooper and make sure he didn't make the list.

"Home to get your things," Barker said, blowing off her question about location at this point. She stood up, took the folder of evaluation papers and went for the door then began to make a left towards the corkboard. "Carmelita! The exit is on your _right_," he said, not wanting her to dillydally. It was rare that he used her first name, especially when reprimanding her.

Carmelita Fox froze in the doorway, weighing her options. Should she tell him that she thought she left her coffee down the hallway to the left or should she just claim she was heading for the bathroom? She opened her muzzle to offer the excuse only for Barker to repeat his very last statement one more time. She then turned to the right, away from the corkboard and headed off down the hall. She would just have to trust that his name wasn't up there and that he wasn't stealing right now. Trust… it wasn't easy but she would have to do it eventually, or the future outcome of a possible relationship was already a sunken ship before it could even leave the metaphorical port.

* * *

**The raccoon was waiting on her bed again**, lying across the mattress with his head propped up on his palm. He heard the front door lock tumbler sliding out of place; a grin tugged at the corner of his muzzle. No rose today, he was simply here to say goodbye. Once the door to the bedroom opened, his grin widened into a genuine smile. He could see her eyes lighting up again and it caused his heart to beat a little faster. 

She'd developed such a public façade of being a hard liner that it almost seemed taboo to know this side of her. She approached the bed, lifting her arms and he rose to meet her, drawing her into his embrace. "Well, you're home early," Sly said with an innocent tone. He saw her leaving the station, after all. He roof-walked here in order catch her by surprise. "New assignment?" asked the raccoon.

"You're quite clever aren't you?" Carmelita inquired, melting into his arms. Her face touched the soft fur of his neck and, for a moment, her mandate was forgotten. She was in love with being in love and it showed; she got everything she wanted, it was as good as she'd hoped it would be and it made her silly with happiness. She wasn't even the same Carmelita anymore… Sly Cooper made her feel like a woman and with the change in her demeanor, she had opened her heart totally and completely to him, naïvely displaying every part of herself to the one she now called 'boyfriend'.

Sly, on the other paw, was pleased to bring out this side of her. He was equally pleased to see that she could finally experience some sort of personal joy. He'd always known she had a smile, as he'd seen it on the helicopter over a bottle of wine, after Clockwork was destroyed, around the time that Bentley had been injured. He also knew that it only took one kiss to undo the knots in her heart; he personally experienced that back in Russia after defeating Clockwerk the first time. Now, he could experience her laughter, her joy and see the woman actually, proudly feeling… well… _girly_. Would it last forever?

It was an accomplishment for them both to bring her to such a level and Sly was empathetic enough to see that she surrendered to the joy, for the first time _ever_. His paws came up to her cheeks, guiding her into a kiss. Carmelita, the _new_ and _happy_ vixen, had a blissful look upon her visage, surrendering to the control of his touch. The kiss was divine.

He dipped his arms beneath hers, swooped her up, and marched forwards until her back met the wall. A playful groan erupted from his throat, pinning her up against the supporting plaster bulkhead, mischievously pressing his body flush to her own. She gasped in sheer excitement and, so very unlike her, a squeal of glee squeaked out of her throat. Her knees rested on either side of his hips and her complete and total trust and confidence in him was understood with her body language.

"Behave," She chided playfully, "_Some_ things can wait until marriage… Oh, but when that happens, your tail is _mine_." Her eyes gazed down upon him, fondly.

"Plan to wear me out?" Sly inquired, suddenly taking on an innocent look, staring up into her soft amber orbs.

"Careful now, Sly," she replied, feigning a casual air, "Your horns are making your halo crooked, lover." She gasped as a kiss returned to her lips only to sigh in content through her nose. Her body relaxed a bit and her eyelids fluttered half-way shut. She didn't want to actually allow the word 'dreamy' to enter her mind but there it was, being a cliché thought. How could everything have all turned out so perfectly, especially after only one day back in each other's life? She couldn't be sure but she believed in it and the power of her faith and love were rather considerable.

The kiss lasted another moment, her body growing flush with an uncomfortable, tight ache building in her gut and thighs; oh but how she longed for relief from that physical desire – a relieving release that would consume her flesh in a way only spouses shared between one another. She had the patience to become a wife first but the desire still bubbled in her body; Sly and Carmelita had curiously powerful chemistry together. She yearned to take him, to have him and to hold him as spouses do… but for now, she would wait. Her thoughts turned to what their future wedding night might be like and it gave her shivers.

Sly maneuvered his lips down from her lips, over her neck, working his way down to her collarbone. She arched her back instinctively, panting softly. "S-sly, I've got a f-flight, baby. C'mon, Ringtail; don't tease. Go get a ring; we'll make the napkins pink and the guests can hire their own DJ." Of course, her words were _more_ than a subtle hint towards marriage. The sooner they married, the sooner she could give herself to him and with the way she was feeling right this moment, she wanted that marriage to start as soon as possible.

"I see you're as turned on as I am," Sly whispered against her upper chest. His paws were exploring in a way that set her body on fire with adoration, love and _desire_. At all the same time, she reached her paws down to his wrists, to keep him from going any further. Sly looked up at her, resting his chin on her bosom, his eyes shining like a faithful puppy dog. "I love you," He said.

Oh _god_ how those words made her undone. It was obvious in her eyes that she replaced her old 'cop obsession' with utter adoration for him. Her muzzle parted and a smile was painted upon those passion-bruised lips. "I love you, too. N-now put me down, dammit. I've got a plane to catch and now, thanks to you, I need a shower so I can freshen up." Part of her felt as though this romance was going _too fast_ but… they'd had a six month romance once before and to his credit, he'd completely changed his lifestyle for her… could it be so wrong to just indulge herself for once?

"Oh yeah?" Sly said, grinning deviously. His warm breath rustled the fur at the base of her neck; he knew he owned every fiber of her this very instant. His apatite for her was born out of the love that she returned. He wanted to make her his mate and, with her less-than-subtle hints, he had already picked out a ring to give once the job was finish. But now they were _both_ going on a mission and he knew he might not survive.

The problem was, Sly Cooper debated over whether he should wait and give it to her if he lived to see her face again or if he should be selfish and propose _now_. Of course, being a thief, he had a little more selfishness in his blood than the average person.

"It's your own fault," she muttered, chiding him. "No ring, no swing." She then leaned to kiss the top of his head as if apologizing but, she knew that he had to sense the arousal in her; the vixen's scent told that much.

"Oh no," Sly said, guiding her body down the wall. Her tail slid against it in friction, until her luxuriously furry brush was between her spine and the wall he'd pinned her to. He continued to lower more, causing her heart to race as his head lowered near her thighs. It was a dirty thought but she couldn't quite help it at the moment; she was turned on and all manner of images were running through her mind. When her feet touch the floor, Sly continued to draw back, still lowering himself, until he was on one knee. "Carmelita," he whispered to her, "I wanted this to be a personal moment… just us, just our love. I'm here because I'm selfish and I'm going to do that job… I don't know how long it will take but I wanted you to know that I _will_ be back and you can trust that feeling…"

He gazed up at her, watching her blink for a moment. Was she curious? Did she not comprehend? Was she simply shocked? She was a woman and so he assumed that she already knew what he was about to do. He reached into his pocket and drew out a velvet box. "I know it's early and I know we've gone a ridiculously long time without talking to each other since our last incursion and… before that, a year at odds. But I think we both had an epiphany and as fast as we've moved in the last two days, we're right were we left off, a year ago after we started dating. From the night I realized this, after you helped me defeat Doctor M, to the night we first held and kissed under the stars, to the night we attended the police ball together… it feels like everything is just as pure and twice as powerful as it was the first time around. And so, I have no problems racing into this… I want to show you a symbol of my affection and love for you… and I didn't even steal it… I purchased it the old fashion way… by _earning_ up some money."

Of course, he actually invested a little bit of the inheritance and used the return to make such a purchase. It's as legal as he could have made the money become, without getting a low-wage job. Her eyes glistened; he could see the twinkling in her gaze. The box was pried open with his thumb, keeping it held up and presented to her. Carmelita looked pale and faint but her goofy, adorable smile told him that this was going in the right direction. Part of him wanted to make a joke as he always did but

"So, before I leave for this honest work, an actual job, I wanted to give to you … this token… of my feelings." The ring was just… _celestial_. Sapphires that matched her hair lined either side of the ring band, with a large diamond mounted at the top center. He'd rehearsed some poetry for this very moment but it came out without rhyme or reason. "It matches the flowing indigo of your hair and the twinkle in your eyes. Your beauty would compliment this ring quite well_, if_ you choose to wear it." She began to reach her left paw out for it. He pulled it back, just a bit, then added, "But only if you agree to marry me…?"

Carmelita, suddenly realizing that she was actually _reaching_ for the opulent ring, paused for a moment. Her left hand was half-extended to him and her heart was just going crazy; as if it were about to beat right out of her chest. She took a moment, swallowed her pride and her giddiness then, slowly, spread her fingers apart and simply said, "Yes. I give you permission to make me _Mrs. Cooper_." She was on the verge of just trembling; her eyes followed his paw as he drew the ring out, lifted it to her left paw… Her chest welled up with pride, hope and happiness, feeling the cool metal being slid down over her left ring finger.

Once the ring was all the way on, her right paw lanced out and seized his wrist. His eyes lifted and she glared down into his with a devious grin. Her lips parted; the delicious silvery tone just rolled over her tongue, "You and me, shower - _now_." She had no intentions of losing her virginity just yet but as far as finally being with him in nothing but flesh and fur… and as far as putting her paws all over him… she was ready to make one intensely passionate scene with her future husband… at least until the hot water heater runs out; then again, her apartment had a _sixty gallon_ tank and her shower nozzle was the water-saving kind that lasted all afternoon…

She _did_ have a plane to catch but it wasn't like there was only _one_ flight out of Paris International Airport. As far as Carmelita was concerned, she could be… _fashionably late_ just _once_ in her life. After all, she'd waited long enough to know what it felt like to have a man's lips caress every _inch_ of her body. Now suddenly seemed like an especially good time for it… She wouldn't be _completely_ nude before him… after all, she _would_ be wearing a ring on her finger, right?

* * *

A/N: _Whoa! Intense first chapter! Did I actually BEGIN a story with an ENGAGEMENT ring? Yes! Some of you are going "ARE YOU KIDDING? Carmelita and Sly are ENEMIES! I don't CARE if they're romantic at the end of Sly 3! They broke up and that's how Lament of Carmelita was supposed to go! What happened to them NOT rushing into one another's arms? What gives, Kit? You betrayed me!" And that's fine. I'm not making the entire story a HUGE romance novel! (only some of it! Hehe) _

_Much like my own romance, there are going to be some serious bumps along the way. My marriage may have ended in divorce only 4 months after it began… but I've been TRYING to get her back and this story is actually meant to be symbolic to me. There will be many parallels to my own marriage and divorce and the love is only the subplot by far. The main plot will BE what Sly is trying to steal and what Carmelita is trying to stop him from stealing. The artifact in question may cause a little animosity and complaining but it's my story, it's my storyline and it's my imagination! No more "Dan Brown" references, please! XD I'm not as rich as Dan Brown and so drawing parallels when I've not even read his work means nothing! LOL_

_No, they're not going after the Holy Grail; it's a three thousand year old chunk of stone and iron. If you haven't already figured it out, don't worry about it just yet… I'm still debating on making that the artifact. If you HAVE figured it out, don't go and spoil it! And yes, I'm that tenacious lol. SO anyway, get your emotional heart strings tightened up and secured; it's going to be a bumpy Rollercoaster Of Love (say what?), Rollercoaster! _

**OKAY so what did you think of how I begin the SEQUEL?**


	2. CIA Training Apprehensions

Chapter -**2**-  
Training Apprehensions

_Three Days Later…_

**Sly Cooper sat up in bed** having just slept away a solid portion of the afternoon. He swung his feet off the side of the mattress, slid to the floor and stretched. Walking to the window, the raccoon peered out into the broad daylight, squinting at the vertical crack of light between the drapes. Washington DC, in all its architectural glory, greeted his senses as strong as the afternoon sunlight.

Washington D.C. wasn't a bustling city in the way foreigners thought of it. It wasn't as racist as people were led to believe, either. Sand serpents loitered at the gates of the White House in head dresses for the afternoon, just conversing with friends. A small group of Russian grizzly bears rested on a park bench under a statue of George Washington. All around, a veritable smorgasbord of cultures gathered directly at the heart of the America's capital.

At the core of D.C., the common American was a minority. Perhaps ironic but Cooper didn't really seem to pay much attention to the fact that the only people who looked remotely American in the general vicinity were college kids coming through the area. They would walk in groups to George Washington University and the many art schools that practically enshrouded the GWU campus.

Sly turned away from the window, wearing a cotton bathrobe with a CIA emblem over the left side of his chest. It had been so comfortable and soft that he'd neglected to remove it before going to bed the night before. His thoughts immediately turned to Carmelita and that caused his body to react in a way that was common for guys in the morning. One thing was for sure… if the relationship went to the next level, they would have hot nights and even hotter mornings.

Sly continued back passed the bed, out of the suite bedroom and into the living room. He reached for the bathroom door and swung it open, only for his eyes to dilate, seeing a gun pointed in his face. Another silencer barrel touched along his shoulder, where it met the side of his throat; it's cool, smooth metallic feel gave him goosebumps, causing the fur at the nape of his neck to stand up.

"Good morning, Mister Sly Cooper. I hope I've not startled you," said the man from behind in an aloof tone of voice. "Welcome to Washington D.C., my friend." In the darkened hotel room, Sly couldn't really tell what race of man stood before him and he certainly couldn't tell who was behind him.

"Look, I'm harmless guys," Cooper told them. "All I want to do is use the bathroom; I just woke up and stuff. Let me take a leak, will ya? Then we'll play by your rules, huh?" His English had a _hint_ of French dialect to it, but it was so light that it was difficult to discern without listening closely to his vowels.

The gunman in the bathroom stepped out and they both came besides one another. The first one gestured to Sly by nudging the raccoon in the shoulder with his pistol. "Go on, be quick. Your cane is in the living room; don't think – you'll get yourself killed. Just do your business and come back out."

"Sure, man." Sly stepped into the bathroom and shut the door, doing exactly what he said he was going to do… he took a leak. Simultaneously, he picked up a toilet plunger sitting on the floor behind the toilet bowl. Cooper finished his business, pulled up the front of his sweat pants and retied the robe then gave the plunger a twirl. The solid wooden handle made him grin.

On the way back to the bathroom door, he picked up a bar of hand soap on the sink then put it into the pocket on the side of his robe. He rested the plunger on the sink counter next to the door, then turned out the light and opened the bathroom door. Both gunners stood side by side, right in front of the door; their guns were trained on him.

"Hey, relax," Sly told them, lifting his paws into the air at shoulder height. "Dang, guys. You're all tense and stuff. Bend your elbows a bit and ease up on your weapon; if you're too rigid in your stance, I might somehow knock it out of your paws."

"What? What the hell are you going on about?" The first man asked. The chameleon stood besides a boar, both of them held guns straight out in Sly's face; their arms extended completely. "We have two guns in your face, 'coon. Shut the hell up and tell us what the US Government has you stealing or you won't be going home to your pretty little girlfriend."

"Aw geeze," Sly said, rolling his eyes. "You gave yourselves away by stopping by too soon! They've not even told me yet," Cooper said, shaking his head with a sigh. "It's a real shame though… even if I knew, I'd still take both of your weapons away and knock you guys out in one quick maneuver, you know?"

"You are little piece of sheet," said the boar, using a thick Russian accent. "You cannot focus up."

Sly tilted his head slightly. "Did you just say… 'focus?' That's pretty funny."

"You are sheet!" the boar shouted, obviously agitated now. "We have guns, you cannot focus up! We will beat your head in like hammer on skull!"

"If you could just pronounce your wording correctly, you'd almost have a foul mouth," Cooper told the man with a slight smile. "Okay, I'll let you in on a little secret but it has nothing to do with what I'm going to steal. See, I'm going to tell you how I'm going to kick both of your butts then I'm going to actually do it."

The chameleon hissed a bit, saying, "We're listening, clown."

Cooper held his paws out to the side as if to shrug but his paws disappeared on either side of the doorway, in the darkened bathroom. "I'll thrust my right paw out and knock both of your guns away at the same time. Then I'll shove a bar of soap into mister Potty Mouth. After that, I'll use both my paws to snatch both of your weapons, turn them around and waste the whole magazine on both of you at close range. It won't kill you because, hey, you're both wearing armored vests; no one has shoulders _that_ broad, after all. I think it might be a girdle on your buddy here," Sly added, referring to the boar who seemed a bit portly.

"Why you leetle piece of sheet!" The boar shouted. "We will saw up family cane if you not talk!"

"Geeze, let's have you 'focus' on being quiet," Sly replied casually. "Now pay attention. I'm only going to do this once. If you're not careful, you won't see how I do it. Remember, misdirection and a quick paw are faster than the naked eye. Ready?"

"If you move, we'll kill you," the chameleon snapped in return.

Sly shrugged calmly then snatched the toilet plunger from off of the sink, which was beyond their view. He thrust it forward in one quick maneuver, twirling it hard. Either side of the wooden handle caught both men's wrist so hard that he'd surly numbed their paws; he followed through with the twirl, causing them to aim away from Cooper at such close proximity. Both guns bucked softly, silenced of their noise with a suppressed flash.

The raccoon then thrust his left paw into his robe pocket, scooped his paw back out, and pushed a bar of soap into the Boar's mouth, then he released the plunger and quickly used both of his paws to disarm both men, snatching the guns gracefully. With ease, Sly turned the weapons in on them, put the silencer barrels against their bulletproof vests and pulled the trigger repeatedly.

Even though it didn't kill either man, the force of the bullets threw them both to the floor in unison. He continued pumping rounds into their vests until they were surly full of bruises and broken ribs from the grueling punishment. Counting in his head, he continued until he got to 'eleven'; after that, he dropped to his knees between them and placed the guns against their foreheads. "One round left for each of you, gentlemen. Start talking."

They were both silent. Cooper then lowered the weapons, until the hot barrels were against the men's crotch. The heated metal sizzled against their trousers, causing both of them to squirm. "This would be far less lethal but it might be more effective. Shall we try and see? You've got five seconds before the both of you have a brand new tail-hole in your backside. Four, three, two…"

"Mff," the boar groaned over the soap. "Mff rumph!"

"Do you want to translate for your friend?" Sly said to the chameleon. "Don't make me waste you guys. You two would look _so_ wonderful together as inmates down in Guantanamo Bay."

"That's enough!" someone in the living room shouted. "Thank you for not killing my trainees, Mister Cooper. We had to make sure you wouldn't talk; it was a test. You can put the guns down, now."

The boar spit the soap out then, trying not to gag, said, "Yeah man, I think I have two cracked ribs here! Jeeze, you freakin' twerp. Get this vest off of me, Eddie; my wife is going to have a fit if I can't attend her sister's wedding this Saturday. Goddamn." The corny Russian accent was gone, leaving Sly to just gawk at them.

"A test huh?" chuckled the Raccoon. "All right, prove it."

"Edward Taylor, CIA," replied the mongoose, approaching Sly from the side with a badge. He flipped on a light switch with his other paw then held out the empty paw, palm up, for both guns. Reluctantly, Sly lifted the weapons, ejected the remaining round in each then placed them, one atop the other, onto the man's paw.

Sly looked over all of them one last time then said, "Good enough, I suppose. And here I was about to think you guys had a leak in your agency."

"_Nothing_ gets leaked concerning a priority _this_ high," Taylor said. "We'll be going to visit AJ and Miss Moore today. Both are highly trained agents and will guide you and your gang through the ropes. Also, we'll be bringing in another member of your gang from China – a Mister _King_. The five of you will be shipped out to The Island, where you'll infiltrate the destination for your mission."

"Neat," Sly replied with a slow nod. So, they were bringing Panda King. The ole' boy would be happy to get a crack at taking down the bad guys, for sure. Sly rose to his feet then leaned over and snatched both the boar and the chameleon by their hands, pulling each to their feet. "Up and at 'em, gentlemen," Cooper said softly, pulling each injured man from the floor.

Sly then asked, "How do we go about finding these agents?" referring to himself as well as the rest of his gang.

"Meet a man in the courtyard walkway, directly in front of the White House. Be there in forty minutes," said Edward Taylor. "We don't have time to train you on how to keep your mouth shut when under torture so we've decided that the less we tell you, the less _you_ can tell someone if you're caught. Did you receive your code phrase reply in France?"

"Yeah," Sly said with a nod. "Bentley and I will look for the guy. You guys have two holes in the wall to pay for. In the future, please use blank rounds, all right? Your trainees have families to pay if one of them got killed in an exercise or whatever. You know? Safety first, guys." He gave Eddie a pat on the face then went back into the bedroom to get dressed.

* * *

**White shirts with thin black ties**, looking much like the 'rent-a-cops' that used to dominate Mall security teams, stood on the corners next to an inexpensive white cruiser with a gold emblem. The black lettering that was painted on that 'seal' was in block lettering format, reading "United States Secret Service" across the top with the addendum of, "United States Treasury Department" along the bottom half of the badge-shaped painting. Obviously, these slobs were fodder guards in training. 

Their jobs were to stand on the street corner, looking white and nerdy, in proximity to the US Treasury building and the adjacent White House. Well armed, higher ranking officers of the Secret Service division were stationed just inside the White House gates, armed and armored. They were clad in black jackets, straps and even a black patch of the American flag, with dark gray lettering on the thirteenth stripe, reading, "Secret Service"; these guards looked fierce by their stance alone.

Black sunshades reflected the glare of sunlight, matching the shiny casing of a Fabrique Nationale Pro 90 Automatic Magnum-caliber submachine gun. Over the White House guard's shoulder, a standard M-16 assault rifle; two Glock pistols on his hips and two Colt .45's on his thighs. The weapons blended in to the black attire, making him seem less of a threat to the average passerby but to Bentley's sharp eyes, he could see that this guard was a walking death machine.

"What'cha looking at?" Sly asked, tilting his head. "We've just flown all the way from France to take a leisurely stroll through downtown DC before our second meeting with our new client and you're checking out the US Treasury guards?" Sly just grinned at his friend whose wheelchair was being pushed by Murray. Penelope walked on the left-hand side of the rolling chair, gazing about at the area.

"There are more guns on that one guard than I've seen on any one person… _ever_." Bentley quirked his brows as they passed the soldier just inside the gates, standing on the White House lawn in a relaxed stance. The FN-P90 was at the ready, however. Holding _fifty_ magnum rounds, it could literally eject up to _nine hundred_ rounds in only one minute. Of course, the weapon on 'full auto' setting was just a 'spray and pray' sort of gun. The kickback alone would be hell to control and any guard without a tripod would have holes in every tourist in the city.

Then again, Bentley knew his guns because he knew his internet; there was a three-round burst setting… great for marking a target and putting three quick holes in the bad guy on the other end of the barrel. The gun was outfitted with a flash light, a scope and a laser sight. The nylon straps on the front and the back came to connect with a harness that was a separate piece, going over the guard's shoulder, out under his other arm. Nylon straps and large plastic buckles covered his chest, his thighs and his arms, so that he was absolutely loaded down with gear and yet he didn't look as though it was cumbersome to move.

Nearly matching dark brown pants were offset by the black gear but matched his brown hair and coffee-colored fur. The lynx had an aristocratic look upon his face, his lips pursed tightly in a thin line of threat. The guy looked like a massive tight-wad and Bentley wasn't afraid to express his opinion of it to Sly and the gang, albeit worded in French.

On the contrary to the United States, Sly was quick to note that people were excessively nice to the group of four since arriving in America. Not only that, they were incognito at the request of the US Government and made their French accents that much thicker with every spoken word… just to make sure that no one recognized them as members of the Cooper gang… especially not the Secret Service. "Black Operations" meant just that – you didn't exist, even if you _just_ had lunch with the President on the Number Two airbus, flying _Air Force One_.

The hippo tilted his head a bit, glancing back at Sly. "What time is our meeting thing?" Murray asked, keeping a leisurely pace behind Bentley's wheelchair.

"It's in Northern Virginia in three hours," Sly said, stealing a glance at his wrist watch; part of his disguise. "We're supposed to meet up with some guy, here, in front of the White House, and he's going to drive us there."

"Where is 'there'?" Penelope inquired casually.

This time, Bentley spoke up. "The headquarters of the Central Intelligence Agency. They're going to give us some quick training courses before we 'deploy'. I think the guy even referred to it as "insertion" so maybe they're going to make us parachute in… Who knows?" He paused then said, "And just between us, I'm still a little bothered that those two men claimed to be from a U.S. Embassy in _Lyon_. We have an American Presence Post there, but the Embassy is in _Paris_."

"Maybe I misheard them," mused Cooper with a shrug. His attention was abruptly distracted and a grin touched his face. "Look at that," Sly said, lifting a finger to point at the metal posts that blocked the center of the street, in front of the US Treasury building. "I just caught a glint of sunlight off of that post; I think there are cameras built into the metal posts; they're not just for keeping cars from driving up onto the pavement in front of the White House."

"Sharp eyes, Pal," Bentley said, adding, "You're probably correct… those look like camera lenses to me. This place is wicked tight. I read that Seal Team Six was ordered to break into this area, sneak into the White House and abduct the president, solely to find weaknesses in the Secret Service defense team."

"Did they manage it?" Sly asked, his French spoken a bit more accented and elegantly than normal, while in public. "At a glance, I don't see how _anyone_ could break into this area; there are cameras, heat sensors and motion tracking equipment all over this place."

"They succeeded," Bentley replied. "But that means that it might be impossible, a second time around. What bothers me is… if those guys could break into the White House, but they couldn't pull off a simple heist… who is to say that we're going to be successful? They were _killed_, Sly. _Execution_ style."

"But," Sly said with a reasoning air, "This is for International Security; they assured me that what these thieves stole was vital … pivotal, _crucial_ even! It couldn't fall into the wrong hands, no matter what… and did. So, we've gotta get it back." Sly dropped the fanciest words of his vocabulary concerning importance.

Bentley nodded slowly and said, "No matter how paramount, I want more intelligence on this before we say 'yes'. But the pay and incentives sound really good."

Penelope's voice of concern came next. "If these Navy Seals are trained every day for their entire lives and still failed, how do we know that this mission is even possible?"

"Maybe they just made a fatal mistake," Murray mused. "I mean, everyone makes mistakes. Who's to say that we just get lucky and succeed? We've done it every _other_ time, right? So, yeah, maybe those guys were awesome'n stuff… but we just have to make fewer mistakes than they did."

Sly shook his head slowly. "Maybe it's all the conspiracy movies I've seen, but who is to say that one of those team members was or was not paid off to make the rest fail. We're a tight group; no one here is going to purposely cause the mission to fail. I've thought about this; let's eyeball it, like Bentley suggested and then go from there. Personally, I want to accept, right off the bat, just because I'm really curious what sort of fist-sized object is _that_ important." The real truth also rested in the fact that Sly was selfish: he wanted to protect Carmelita.

"Excuse me," said a black-furred gentleman in a trench coat, using a proper French accent. Obviously a well groomed and intelligent looking marmoset, the man turned his gaze directly to both Bentley and Sly. "By chance, do you know when the Coo-coo strikes?"

Penelope and Murray glanced at one another; Penelope's eyes told the hippopotamus to just stay quiet, while Murray's own eyes were filled with confusion in reply. Bentley and Sly both nodded at the same time with the tortoise being the one to speak the counter line they were given when at the 'Embassy' in France, two days prior.

Bentley afforded the man with a kindly smile and responded, "I once knew a German clockmaker. He was the master of the coo-coo clocks. He could make it _strike_ every morning, noon, and _night_." The entire dialogue was spoken in French. The gentleman opened a flap on his ankle-length coat, displaying a badge that read, "NSA" upon it. The tortoise grinned; they were some of the best and brightest code breakers in the business… it was one of his favorite past times. Bentley broke codes from notes written on soiled paper that was ripped to pieces, stuffed into glass green bottles and deposited all over the cities of each heist location (A/N: _Sly 1 and Sly 2 games_). He broke codes to help Sly crack safes and he broke codes to help the team advance through a riddle.

Why an Agent of the National Security Administration was working as the pick-up courier to take four people to the CIA's headquarters was _beyond_ Bentley but one thing was for sure… he was partially impressed to see the two agencies working together so early in the job.

"There's a lot to explain on the ride," said the man in plain English. "It's taken some of the best code breakers in the business to find out what we've learned and I'm going to teach you guys everything I can in the time it takes us to drive a car from the corner of E street and 15th street, all the way down Interstate 395, to our destination. It's not long, so I'll need you guys to pay attention. This thing is bigger than any concept concerning the DiVincci Code or whatever else you can think of; there is an artifact that has been stolen out of Europe and the United States found out who has it… then, we found out what it's going to be used for… I wish I could tell you what you're getting yourselves into, gentlemen. Follow me." He began to head back towards the Ellipse Circle, cutting across the grass. The group followed, with Murray still pushing the wheelchair, off the pavement and into the well-maintained lawn.

"You're comparing this artifact to a story about religious relics?" Bentley asked as they continued out into the semi-field, getting further away from prying ears.

"Mostly, I'm comparing your mission," said the marmoset. His stature was smaller than that of an ape but he was bulkier than any chimp. "But the relic is pretty old and we're not even sure if it's real. We're pretty damn sure but until we put it into a laboratory to verify it… well, who's to be sure of _anything_ right? I'm not even supposed to talk about it but, well, you'll see. Most of the people on the team say the relic is bullshit." His sharp, vituperative curse caused the four Cooper Gang members to exchange uneasy glances. It was obvious that this guy felt insulted by someone who disbelieved in this purported relic but for him to snap out such a word caused Bentley to cringe, just slightly.

"What is it?" the tortoise simply asked.

"I'm not allowed to tell you," the marmoset replied. "You can't be tortured for information if you don't know what you're retrieving. But, because I know it's hard to grab something unknown, let's just say you're snagging a really old rock because that's what it's going to look like in your paw."

"Good enough," Sly replied before the turtle could pipe up further on the issue. As far as Sly was concerned, they could snatch it, run some tests on it to find out why people were dying over a silly old stone, and then hand it over to the proper authorities when everything was said and done. But what kind of stone would be important enough for people to get killed over? Why would it be stolen in the first place? Was it magic? Would the United States Government honestly give a damn about magic stones? The group didn't know enough about what was going on to make heads or tails of the situation yet but the thought of being tortured over it wasn't appealing.

Penelope added, "You also don't want us to tell anyone what everybody is searching for if we suddenly back out."

"I'm sure that was considered, as well," the monkey mused thoughtfully. "The car isn't far, now. It's just another few minutes, out to the road. I'll give you the run-down on the way; let's double time it, guys. We'll put the wheelchair into the trunk; we're kind of in a hurry." Bentley already had a bad feeling about this whole thing but his curiosity was getting to him; after all, if this rock really was so very important, the gang wouldn't want it being in the wrong hands. However, the problem seemed that it already _was_ in the wrong hands… The Cooper gang just had to get it back.

Sly knew that Bentley was feeling apprehensive about the entire situation. The turtle was occasionally sneezing all the way across the Ellipse, a green field with a circular pavement road that stretched out directly opposite to the White House. It's where the National Christmas Trees were displayed in December and was sometimes mistaken for being an extension of the front lawn _of_ the White House. In actuality, it was owned by all of America as a National Park and was patrolled by park police, not Secret Service guards.

The Marmoset assumed that Bentley had grass allergies, which worried him; would the turtle do well with field work later, when the group was sent in to do their jobs? It didn't matter to him; these thieves were reputable as world class – for all _he_ knew, the turtle's sneezing could have been an act. But for Sly, it was just a sign that things were just a little bit beyond the turtle's mild autumn hay fever.

After all, Bentley was taking allergy shots now… he usually only started sneezing like this when he had a bad feeling or was worried about something. Sly just wanted to get the gang on location at the job site, so they could get down to business. All this "Intel" and "cloak and dagger" crap was starting to become boring. He really just wanted to finish the job so he could get back to wooing Carmelita Fox.

* * *

**The drive south didn't last long but it was uneventful, **giving Sly the chance to let his mind wonder. A slight grin touched his masculine facial features and his eyes seemed distant, gazing off into infinity. He could see Carmelita's face in the shower. The white tiles behind her helped to make her stunning chocolate orbs seem that much more intense. 

Her lips parted just slightly and a hint of a smile came to grace her feminine visage. The vixen's eyes fluttered shut slowly, drawing her lower lip in between her teeth; the smile tugging more at the corner of her mouth. Her body had been presented to him and he knelt before her, the water cascading over his shoulders in the shower booth, just looking up at her reactions. His paws explored in reply to her offer of trust. The steam of the shower seemed to surround them like a thick fog. A veil of mist caused the rest of the world to not exist.

It was just them in that shower stall. Man and woman, lovers in love. He rose to his feet, taking her paws into his own then lifted them above her head. He held them against the white tiles; her wrists crossed one over the other. She looked up at him with longing; a sharp but needy inhale of breath was the reply to having her paws pinned to the wall above her ears. Sly then leaned forward until his lips brushed against hers but didn't yet indulge in the actual kiss.

"You tease," she murmured against the flesh of his lips. Her soft, passion bruised tiers _begged_ for that kiss but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of vocalizing such a submissive sounding plea. "Kiss me, you fool."

"With pleasure," replied Sly, his hot breath pouring out over her fur and flesh, teasing at the skin. His other paw came up, as if to cup her face but instead, he reached behind her neck, gently rubbing his fingers against the nape. He then firmly pressed his lips to her own in a kiss that caused her body to throb against him. Her toes curled, her thighs were pulsating and her chest tightened with desire. He knew he had made the woman come undone… that was his intent.

Suddenly the dream came to an end as the Ford Crown Victoria came to a stop at a guard shack. Cooper blinked away the reverie and smiled awkwardly, looking to the driver who presented an identification card and the documents that detailed the Gang's orders. Sly shook his head a bit, the way a dog shakes when they're wet, just trying to clear his head from the daydream.

Out of the blue he simply stated, "I proposed to Carmelita day before yesterday."

"Are you serious?" Bentley said, turning to his long time friend. "And you didn't tell me?"

Sly just grinned. "I got impulsive and did it earlier than intended," replied Cooper. "You should have seen her face. She didn't know what to do or say. I always knew she loved me."

"That's so sweet," Penelope said with a grin, looking over the back of the front passenger seat at the raccoon sitting behind the driver. "So she said yes, right?"

"She said yes," Sly assured the mouse. "Then we celebrated."

"Oh?" Penelope grinned, leaning in a bit, as if to better absorb all the juicy gossip. "How so?"

Sly lived up to his name, offering a grin to fit just such a word. "Let's just say Latin Vixens have a reputation of being 'fiery' for a _very_ good reason. I see her face every time I close my eyes."

"Sly," Penelope just stared at him with a lopsided sort of smile. "You're the only guy I know that can be conceited and humbly sweet at the very same time. I don't know how you do it but … anyway, I'm glad she said 'yes'. I'd have thought you were moving awfully fast since you've not dated in so long."

Sly, in a fairly silly sort of mood, suddenly said, "True love knows no boundaries, time constraints or obstacles."

"So long as you don't steal," Bentley interjected. "Not to imply that you've been stealing anything lately but… you will be soon enough! Didn't the Intelligence agents tell us that she'll _be_ on location on this mission?"

"She sure will," Sly replied. "You should have seen her face, though. I got her a diamond ring with three sapphires fixed on either side of the mount; I told her that each one represented each of the six times I got _away_ from her Scott-Free but the diamond in the center represents the one time she _captured_ my heart for the rest of our lives."

Penelope was silent, she just lifted her right paw and placed it over her mouth, hiding the bright smile that brought a hint of blush to her cheeks. His explanation of the metaphor concerning the sapphires in relation to getting away ...with the center mount diamond as a metaphor for being caught … captured… it was too perfect for a thief to use in reference to the cop of his heart. He knew it was clever now, just as it was when he used it in the shower with Carmelita. It wouldn't have worked on just any girl but an emotional sap like Inspector Fox ate it up like jam on toast.

"We're here," said the marmoset to the group.

"Far out," Murray replied then turned to Sly, sitting on the other side of Bentley. "Congratulations, Sly. Now that you're going to marry her, you can tell her to leave us alone, huh? Oh and see if you can't score another bag of jelly beans from her. That was totally awesome. Anyway," Murray continued, opening the rear passenger door and stepping out with a stretch as if to be sarcastic in the face of such a short trip.

* * *

**The main CIA headquarters building was nestled safely at the center of a large complex** in suburban Langley in northern Virginia, about 8 miles from downtown DC, as the crow flies. An impressive and majestic building from the front, there were fourteen massive purple-hued marble columns which lined the left and right of the entrance; 7 pillars on each side. The doors at the entry point were constructed from a greenish-clear hue of glass. A half-circle glass section, set atop of the doors, gave it a sort of "airport" look, the group thought. Regardless, it was an architecturally beautiful building. 

The large glass doors opened before them; Sly and his cohorts were escorted in. A large round CIA seal adorned the floor with white and gray squares placed somewhat at random all about it. White columns with gray sided highlights lined the main hall, going five rows further than the top of the seal. To the immediate left and right of these square-shaped pillars were marble benches, white with gray tops. An American flag, a dark gray statue, a black and white "POW MIA" flag and various, interesting art pieces followed the left wall. White square lighting panels covered the ceiling like Morse code, from front to back. At the far end, another set of glass doors that led into the courtyard reflected sunlight off of the shiny floor.

There was a small museum-like section, where spy cameras and other old CIA gadgets now rested; it was almost like a shrine dedicated to "Q" from the old James Bond movies. The display was closed to public visitors, as was the rest of the compound. "Your training will take place here," the marmoset told the quartet. "It will be brief because we want to get you out on location, but… we wanted to familiarize you with some of the equipment that you'll be using to complete your mission. From what I understand, part of your mission will require going 'gear free', so as not to provide any sort of trace back to America, should you be captured."

"You mean executed," Bentley said from his wheelchair. Murray stayed quiet, still pushing the chair and its passenger through the main hall.

Penelope pivoted her head, panning her gaze about the area, just taking in its sheer opulence. She never thought she'd actually visit the interior of the CIA headquarters and, now, here she was. The floor and walls were so clean that one could eat off of them. "This is really awesome," she murmured to herself. "I'm in love with this place already." She paused to muse over a statue of Allen Dulles, the Director of Central Intelligence from the 1950's. She then returned her attention to the rest of the group, following them closely.

"As you may know," the marmoset continued to explain, "The CIA employs a group of clandestine officers with paramilitary training. Hand in hand with the Special Activities Division; they're trained to be your average James Bond type. They're deadly and smart, whether performing recon or infiltration, blowing things up or even rescuing high priority hostages and worldly escorts. One of them will be assigned to you as a training affiliate. He or she will ensure that Mister Cooper can handle himself like a real spy."

* * *

…minutes later.

**The Cooper gang **stepped out into an indoor field with actual Astroturf. It was located two stories beneath the CIA courtyard and was large enough to host a high school football team practice. Three people stepped out from the other end, approaching the four member gang; one of them was a female. The two gentlemen, both well dressed felines looking fairly built and intelligent, seemed to stand tall over the demure looking squirrel, Sandra, who looked a bit like a scientist. She wore large, round rimmed glasses and her hair was up in a sloppy bun. She had a pencil in her muzzle, chewing on the metal end that once held an eraser, long ago. She wore a white lab coat and pressed slacks with a frizzy librarian's sweater buttoned shut.

"What we're going to teach you," said the lady in a soft voice, "Is something more than the art of deception. You've already mastered that or you wouldn't be here," she told them. "These gentlemen are the technical equipment supervisors; one of them helps to invent this gear. Me, on the other paw… I'm the defensive and tactical coordinator." She took off her lab coat and unbuttoned her sweater, partially displaying a Cookie Monster T-shirt underneath.

"You're the fighting guy?" Murray asked, tilting his head. "So you could kick all of our butts and look good doing it or something?"

"I like you," she told the hippo almost immediately. "You're open minded and don't seem chauvinistic about me. That's a very good thing to know right off the bat; the group's strongman doesn't judge a book by its cover." The squirrel began to fold the lab coat over her arm, looking each one of them over. "I need to know… who here can _not_ fight?"

Penelope turned her head to Bentley, who raised his hand a little. She then raised her own and said, "I can fence really well and I can box… does that count?"

Sly glanced over at Penelope and grinned. He remembered when he had a fist fight with her on the wing of an airplane in mid flight… of course she was in a large, cushioned body suit with a mask and that absorbed a lot of Sly's attacks. The mouse was a tough girl; no one could take that away from her. As far as he was concerned, Penelope could man-handle most average guys.

"Boxing counts," said the woman. "My name is Sandra Moore. I'm a small arms, melee and paw-to-paw combat specialist. I train people for the CIA and my husband is a Master Chief in the United States Navy; he trains Seals, I train agents. Seals failed what you guys are about to undertake, so I'm going to train you like agents, and we'll try this mission _my _way, understood?"

"Could I ask a question?" Bentley inquired, lowering his hand. "Do you know what the Seals did wrong? I would certainly rather we didn't follow their mistakes."

Sandra frowned thoughtfully. "They were too far into the mission," she said. "They were beyond the point of no return, where they were no longer in communication with the host group. Unfortunately, they turned up dead without a word. We may never find out what happened but now Interpol is sniffing around, conducting an investigation. We've got to finish this job before _that_ officer gets themselves killed and before this whole thing goes completely public."

"Any idea on the agent?" Sly asked.

"Yes, we have a full bio on her," Sandra mused. "She's a capable one but not part of our plan. But she's not expendable either. Letting her get killed makes things complicated and then this all goes public. So, whether you like it or not, keeping her alive is as every bit apart of your mandate as finding the relic," said the squirrel, sounding almost irritated at the entire situation. "But she can't know _anything_ because her job is to report _everything_ in a document that gets handed in to her supervisors. So, in order to do this," she paused and folded her paws across her chest, eyeing each gang member. "…we're going to use disinformation and subterfuge, gentlemen …and lady. We're going to lie and smile and look good doing it. And yes," she said, approaching Sly, "We know of the coincidence that you have a relationship with this Interpol agent. I suggest, for the sake of _her_ life, you play this smart so everyone lives."

"If she catches me," Sly trailed off, shaking his head.

"Yes?" Sandra tilted her head. "Your girlfriend will catch you stealing and you'll lose your relationship with her? We know; this wasn't our intent but Interpol involved themselves after catching wind of the deaths of those Seals. It was to our dismay that they sent an agent that would conflict with the people we commissioned for this; we have to work with what we've got." The Squirrel was an athletic and very attractive girl but her sloppy hair bun and nerdy clothing made her far less appealing.

"Incidentally," Sandra continued, "Today is my day off work. I make salary and I'm tired so this session is not going to be a history lesson about the romance between a thief and a cop; now listen up…" the squirrel paused, taking off the librarian-style sweater. She handed both the lab coat and sweater to one of the felines besides her, then rubbed her paws together. "According to your bio," she turned her attention back to Sly. "You know how but never actually had need to shoot a weapon. I've got one hour dedicated to making you an accurate marksman and I've got an hour to make sure you _all_ know how to snap someone's neck."

Bentley cringed. His head lowered into his shell as if hiding his own throat. He couldn't help but wonder how many necks were broken to the woman's paws and part of him didn't want a confirming answer about it. He glanced over at Penelope, who had her attention on the trainer.

Sandra slowly shook her head, still speaking to the four of them. "I'll be introducing techniques that normally remain in the Secret Agent field. Hopefully nobody will be using it on this mission. Are there any questions so far?"

Sly chimed right in, asking, "So you guys teach one another one hundred ways to kill a man with a toothpick but, tell me… how does one assassinate someone with a household item and get away with it? I mean, is that stuff really true?"

Sandra rolled her eyes slightly. "Okay, I'll give _one_ example, then we've got to get to field practice. You people deploy _tomorrow_, that's not a lot of time." She cleared her throat then said, "In 1972, I was 19 at the time, I had to assassinate a third world country '_candidate_ for _world leader position_.' I was in the Middle East and all I had to use was a pack of cigarettes and a coffee tin. I had twenty four hours before personally meeting with the man and needed a sure-fire method to extinguish him before he took power. The CIA limits its tactical espionage, no longer performing political assassinations but back then, times were different." Sandra hardly looked 25, let alone anywhere near mid 50's.

Sly folded his arms, continuing to listen. The rest of his gang seemed to be hanging on to every word she said, and he had to wonder if they were also second guessing her age. He noted that her hair was sandy-blonde and that her facial features looked _too_ young to have been nineteen years of age, back in 1972. Regardless, he listened to her continue her story.

"At any rate," Sandra said, running her left paw up through her bangs, "I mashed the smokes up in the tin coffee can and plucked out the filters and paper. I poured a little water into the tin can and put on a plastic lid with a few holes in it, then I sat it out on the doorstep. There's hardly any humidity in the desert air and it only took that afternoon for the water to evaporate from the pasty mush. This left me with concentrated and rapid-fermented barely-moist sludge." She wrapped her paws around the Cookie Monster t-shirt and lifted it off casually, displaying a bullet proof vest beneath, much to everyone's surprise.

Her bosom had been uncomfortably pressed down with a binding wrap so that the vest wasn't even visible on her prior to now. She'd maintained a flat-chested look and it went well to prove that she could give herself any build she pleased, should she ever require going incognito. The female continued, "I used a butter knife, carefully spreading this chalky paste onto a leather glove, making sure it was thin enough that it wouldn't leave a residue. They were tan dress gloves, meant to go with a gown, but were lined on the inside to be waterproof completely. When I shook hands with the gentleman, an hour later, the concentrated nicotine got into the pours of his skin and into his blood. In eight minutes, the poison went from his blood to his chest, stopping his heart. Due to a lack of forensic technology, something the Middle East _still_ lacks, their doctor announced the dictator-to-be 'dead from natural causes'. Cigarettes are bad for your health, gentlemen. It's a nasty habit; don't start."

Sly was impressed. In fact, everyone was impressed, regardless of how nauseating it was to think of such a disgusting way to poison someone. "Eight minutes huh?" the raccoon asked. "And by then, you were long gone, eh?"

"In eight minutes, he'd shaken hands with four other people. It was a black-tie event and so everyone was wearing formal-wear gloves, except for the target, who wore cloaks and a head-wrap. Yes," Sandra concluded, "We learn a hundred ways to kill someone with a toothpick; no, we don't exercise exotic assassinations anymore. Congress stripped the CIA of that power twice, most recently running an audit against it in 1991. We don't play the conspiracy game anymore; this situation with The Artifact is something rare and that's why they called _me_ to help. And yes, I know what you're all thinking; and yes, I _am_ older than I look. I'm fifty-three." She had a body like a twenty-five year old.

"How do you do it?" Penelope asked.

"I take care of myself," Sandra replied. "My husband is a Master Chief; do you know how long it takes to achieve that rank? An entire career… At any rate, I can appear any way I wish which is why my agent code name is _The Chameleon_. I can bind my breast down and wear a thin armor piece so that I appear plain and flat-chested. I can wear a belt above my waist and take on an hourglass figure. I can look nerdy or," she trailed off, reaching up to let her hair down. It tumbled over her shoulders, rolling down passed her shoulder blades, "I can play the coquettish 'piece of tail' that is called in to handle a male counter-agent. Enemy operatives are handled by spying on the spies of other networks. My driver's license says I'm thirty next week; the lady at the DMV told me that I'm too old to look this young and that I should lie about my age… what she doesn't know is that I already do. It's a wonder what volcano ash can do for your fur, just ask any Chinchilla."

Penelope wore a wry grin, amused by the strong personal and pro-feminine characteristics Saundra portrayed. It was easy to respect a woman who made "being a girl" something worth bragging about again. The mouse immediately decided that she would have to ask this squirrel about skin and fur care sometime later. "What about making people think that my boyfriend can walk normally? That kind of misdirection is impossible."

"You're correct," Sandra replied. "Having your back broken in the jaws of a powerful machine makes being a paraplegic an irreversible reality." She then turned her attention to Bentley and said, "But building a walking machine is quite impressive," she added in reference to the bionic leg attachment kit that Bentley had used a month and a half ago, in Prague. "Will you be implicating that machine in your field work?" she asked the tortoise. It was obvious that the CIA had very detailed profiles on The Cooper Gang.

"I suppose so," Bentley replied with a slow nod. He was still a little squeamish to think about this woman using her delicate, feminine paws to snap someone's neck on a whim. "I've been tinkering with the design. It's not designed to survive a battlefield but maybe I can get some help from someone here, hmm?"

"We'll see," said Miss Moore. "Right now, I want you to be able to live in the Congo with them and still come out without a single twinge in any of the joints. We're not sending you to a friendly place."

"Can you elaborate?" Bentley asked, folding his hands.

Sandra sighed, shaking her head slowly. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you and it seems simply _stupid_ that this cult hasn't been publicly detected yet." She turned to the two science techs. "Bring the gear out, gentleman. It's time to get started." The squirrel turned back to the Cooper gang and said, "Atlantis. A modern-day cult has built an underwater city and fleshed out an underwater tunnel that leads in to the mainland. I doubt it's where Atlantis was fabled to exist but their city _is_ built from ancient ruins that were found off the coast of South America. This cult is looking to begin an empire, training a militia of immense size; it's staggering to think of this many people being involved without _anyone_ knowing. Their immense numbers often take the breath away from those who learn of it. We believe that they have stolen an artifact that has allowed their empire to prosper; without it they're sure to crumble on their own. It's complicated because I don't even believe in artifacts like this, but it seems to make them invincible… Even to Seals. The new plan is to steal it."

Sly refolded his paws. "So it's just the four of us?"

"No," Saundra replied. "Besides Mister King, who will be joining you late in the mission, I am sending an agent; he's no joke. He's also a terminal rare-disease patient. He has a few months to live from a disease we've never even documented before. He knows he might die and expressed the interest to try and go out honorably on a mission, rather than in his bed, or behind the wheel of a car or something he feels is less fitting. Now, back to the mission and Atlantis, we think that this cult has part of their operation in the Arctic. We're not quite sure how extensive their business-dealings are in Antarctica but if you learn anything, report it to us."

"And Carmelita?" Sly asked once more, just to be sure.

"If she dies, the investigation will become _too_ large," Saundra noted. "If she learns _too_ much and reports it, the investigation _will_ go public. She's our ace in the hole; if you keep her alive but make sure she doesn't find anything out, our chances of a smooth success increase dramatically." Saundra Moore placed her paws on her hips as the two felines came back, carrying a table full of electronic gadgets. Moore continued, "If she goes there and finds _nothing_, we will have ensured that the investigation and public eye stops right there. She is our guarantee that nobody else will start snooping around, so make sure you let her do her job; just make sure she doesn't learn anything or get into too much danger. Her failure to find out what's going on is a large factor in the success of this mission."

"Piece of cake," Sly chuckled.

"Don't get sidetracked," Saundra snapped.

"I'll be the one doing the sidetracking," Sly returned with a charming smile. "I hope she's not too mad when she sees me trying to steal an artifact; maybe I can spy my way in to becoming a guard for it and tell her that's my new job, huh?"

"Not my problem," Saundra said. "Now, let's look at your gear…"

* * *

Six hours later…

**Jacob White was a **well manicured, sharp featured fox. His fur coat was neat and trim, his eyes were well-defined golden pools. His whiskers were a tad thick but neatly arranged so that the moustache was orderly and proper looking. The tips of his ears were dipped in a chocolate-like frosting of fur which matched his black-furred paws and wrists. The tip of his tail was in stark white, which matched his neck and chest coloration. Jacob's age appeared to be around thirty-five, give or take; he was an incredibly attractive man with a calm, gentlemanly voice.

Stepping into the underground field, Agent White removed what appeared to be a top hat; a cane hung from his right wrist and he was otherwise clad in a fine tuxedo with cummerbund, bowtie, elegant vest and opal cufflinks. He fit the spy persona quite well. He approached Saundra and the two exchanged a kiss on one another's cheek then embraced in a friendly hug. Sly was beginning to wonder if they ever got bored together, while on a stake out… and if so, what happened that they were so friendly with one another.

The truth was, both agents lived and nearly died for the same reasons; those commonalities helped them to respect one another. Also, he was a gentleman and she was a lady. They'd been under fire together many times and a simple handshake seemed trite. On the other hand, Sly thought it to be superfluous; he hoped that Carmelita's co workers didn't go around hugging her at the office. Not that he would feel jealous, as he trusted her implicitly, but it _would _be awkward.

"Hello again, Cammie," Jacob said, a nickname for her codename used in fieldwork. "I received the Cooper file; is this the bunch?"

Saundra nodded her head slowly. "Sly Cooper, this is Jacob White." She paused to let the vulpine agent perform the rest of his salutations on his own merit.

He shook paws with each of the three remaining members, "Murray; an experienced driver and exceptional will of body," he said, exchanging a quick handshake before moving to the wheelchair, "Bentley, quite an impressive mind you've got. I also read you're rather handy with explosives? Always a good thing!" He then came to stop in front of Penelope and kissed her paw. "And, finally, the Baron! I hear that you're a pilot of pilots, boxer, fencer and mechanical wizard? I bet you keep Bentley on his toes."

"And make him _very_ happy," she added, politely drawing her paw back from the charmer with a respectful smile. "I hear you're a butt-kicking agent. I'm sure we all look forward to working with you, Mister White."

"Please," said the fox, "Call me A.J., everyone does. I never went for the whole agent codename thing; Agent Jacob White turned into A.J. White and, before long, it became the name I preferred. So, I hear you four have been learning about gadgets and basic weapon disarming techniques for the last few hours?"

"A quarter of a day," Bentley replied with a nod. "It is grueling work but I understand we've got eighteen hours before they send us out."

"Luckily, I've never had a mission failure," said Agent White. "If we stay together, we'll finish this operation in about five or six days. Assuming that the recon work is quick and undemanding, it'll be a breeze. If they're running a tight ship, it could take closer to ten days."

"The more the merrier," Murray said. "I can't wait to kick some tail and stop the bad guys; are you going to help us the entire time or just while we're allowed to have gadgets?"

"Well," AJ tilted his head a bit then said, "It gets a little complicated when we're forced to forego the gear, later in the mission... but, I'll be with you until I die, you die, or we win. Hopefully, the latter."

"Here's to winning," Penelope replied. "We're a tight knit group; we've worked with other people on a short-term situation and it turned out highly successful so hopefully you'll fit right in."

The fox held up one paw, almost defensively, and said, "I don't render a guard unconscious like you." AJ glanced down the field at five round targets with red circles at the center. "I play hardball then I hide the bodies," he told them, drawing a 45 caliber handgun from inside of his vest. With what seemed like a flick of a wrist, he'd attached a silencer and fired several shots. From about 130 yards away, he was accurate to hit all the red circles, although not in the dead center. Then again, he casually aimed his wrist, never once bothering to line up the gun's sights or actually assume an aiming stance.

The fox feigned a smile. "I suppose I don't have a conscience or a guide," he told them. "I kill, move on and kill again… without regret. I don't visualize them as living forms that have a life, a wife, or that they breathe and think… They're just enemy units that go down when I put them down."

Saundra face-faulted, shaking her head. "That's why you're monitored by a psychologist twice a month," she muttered softly. "They're worried that you don't regret your decision to use lethal force so quickly."

"It's just who I am," AJ replied. "But I know the difference between side 'A' and side 'B'. I don't suppress any emotions when I kill. I believe in reincarnation; every 'bad guy' or 'tango' or '_target_' I kill will come back to life one day… hopefully the second time around, they won't be a terrorist, thug or punk working for someone who causes trouble."

"You see?" Saundra asked the Cooper group. "He's amazing. He walks into a room, disarms three soldiers, snaps two of their necks and pumps the third for information. Then he dices the tongue of the third, breaks their fingers and thumbs so they can't write or type about his intrusion, finally leaving the last person to live so that they can start a reputation that a phantom came and wrecked everyone."

"It was _once_," AJ laughed. "That stupid rumor in Pyongyang, where I killed everyone but the last guy in the military compound, after I stole the original plans to their long range ICBM's. It's rather silly to think about me getting a reputation. I try to remain a ghost agent."

Saundra turned back to Cooper and his crew, saying, "A Ghost Agent is someone who works alone, like a splinter cell. They go in, they clear a base by themselves, without alerting anyone, then they fade from existence." She approached AJ and slugged him on the shoulder. "I used to tell him that he's dying from lack of a heart and soul. No machine should kill the way he kills. He has no remorse or _anything_. Just apathy."

"I won't cramp your style or get into your way," AJ said to the group. "I just do my thing… clear a room and go back to staying quiet."

"Let's not try to leave bunch of bodies in our wake," Bentley said.

"Fair enough, so long as those bodies aren't ours," AJ replied with a long, slow nod.

* * *

A/N: _Man, I re-wrote this chapter so many times. It was just so boring to me! So, I opened with Sly getting tested in the hotel instead, then dropped to him going out into DC. Originally, I started with them being in DC and meeting the dude, then THAT car got pulled over. Then they staged something in the City to test the whole team. The problem with THAT was… it ended weird and non-realistic and you can't just stage that sort of thing, like a shootout in downtown DC between a bunch of people then suddenly everything is fine. No, cops are suddenly everywhere. _

_Also, trained government people, outnumbering the heroes by double… no way, they're not going to win; that would be cheesy and unrealistic. _

_I've often mentioned that I rewrite entire sections and I've yet to show you guys what an outtake looks like… so, for your amusement… _

_I present: THE OUTTAKE. _

_It was to occur when the NSA Agent was driving to the interstate, heading for I-395 before heading south towards the CIA headquarters. He was going to deviate and drive into the training trap. This is how it WOULD have gone, but I decided that I hated it LOL. Also, in this outtake, Bentley was going to have his bionic leg attachment. I put him back in a wheel chair for a little while, instead. _

_

* * *

_

Outro version of Sly's capture-resistance training

_**The Ford Crown Victoria came to a stop** surrounded in front and back by black GMC Yukon trucks with the Denali trim; fancy chrome grilles, powerful engines and all the extra bells and whistles. They came crowded together at a stop light in a small industrial section with no one else around._

_Without warning, all the doors on the front and rear SUV opened in unison and a group of men approached the Crown Victoria. Bentley craned his head, quickly taking a headcount of the approaching people. "Is this part of the plan?"_

"_Not in the least; remain calm," said the NSA agent. Men in dark coats with black leather gloves swarmed the Ford; one of them pulled a small pistol with a silencer. Sly could see the gun buck but there was no flash or sound. The driver's side window took on a small, round star where the bullet struck. Suddenly, the NSA agent slumped over, silent. Penelope's eyes widened as she was in the front passenger seat, next to the man._

_Smooth crimson liquid ran down the agent's chin, pooling on the upholstery of the center part of the seat. Penelope licked her lips with apprehension, her lower lip quivering. Her eyes widened and she simply told the group, "Blood is oozing from his mouth. I think he's dead."_

"_I hate conspiracies," Sly muttered. "All right, guys, kick the doors open all at once, we're not going to sit here like our driver. Go!" In unison, Murray, Penelope and Sly kicked open the car doors, catching several men with guns right in their gut. Bentley was in the center of the backseat and reached for the rear passenger door, swinging his bionic legs about as Murray exited the vehicle._

_Sly literally leapt from the rear driver's side of the Ford and snatched the silenced pistol with his left paw. He then drew his cane from inside the car with his right paw, quickly re-extending his arm to snatch another gunner's weapon. His left paw bucked, feeling the gun fire straight up into the air._

_With a quick jerk of his right paw, the other gunner was disarmed. He pulled hard with all of his weight, forcing the two gunners together. He then placed his paws on their shoulders and hopped upwards, putting his legs on their shoulders, keeping the men face to face. He didn't even bother paying attention to their race but some part of his mind registered the fact that they were canine and feline._

_Now sitting on their combined shoulders, he brought his cane straight down upon both men's foreheads, striking both simultaneously. Still face to face, both men slumped to the ground together. Sly hopped up as their bodies went down. He put his feet on their shoulders then somersaulted to the roof of the car which buckled ever so slightly under the weight of his landing. His eyes landed upon Penelope who was holding her own surprisingly well._

_She dodged to the left, throwing a right hook. It caught the man in his face, surprising him. She then grasped at his weapon and pointed it straight down, pulling the trigger. The handgun fired directly into the feline's shoe with a loud thumping sound but before he could shout in pain, she followed through with a two-hit combination; first striking him with her left paw then pistol whipping him with the gun in her right. He pivoted about on his heel then crashed, face down, on the curb._

_A paw came to her shoulder with the other arm of her new assailant, which wrapped around her neck, holding her tight. Sly swung his cane, catching that man in the back of his head but it didn't do the job. Bentley then approached him from behind, acting quickly to rescue the mouse of his mind and dreams._

_The tortoise, using his bionic leg attachments, kicked out the back of the attacker's knees then placed his hands on the man's shoulders. Bentley pushed his index fingers into a sensitive pressure point behind the man's collarbone, where his shoulder and his neck met. The man yelped in pain, releasing Penelope from his grip. She wiggled out from beneath the guy then turned around and pulled her fist back, delivering a hard punch into the attacker's crotch._

_The man sunk to his knees, finished off with a knee to the forehead, courtesy of Bentley's bionic leg extensions. Meanwhile, Murray was in the thick of the action between two guys at the same time. He stood adjacent to the rear passenger side of the Ford, throwing a left punch at one guy then pivoting to throw a right punch at another. The hippo snagged a third man by both arms then pivoted hard, swinging him into the other two well-dressed thugs. One of them teetered back and hit his head on the passenger side headlight of the rear SUV, shattering it._

_Murray gave one more swing, bringing the man into his last remaining attacker with all of his might and weight. Both men collapsed to the ground. Murray approached them swiftly, grasped their heads in his palms and smacked them together, face to face. "The Murray triumphs!" he shouted, flexing both arms above his head._

_Almost overtop of Murray's outburst, clapping could be heard. All four of them turned around, facing the uninjured NSA agent, a few feet away from the Ford. They all stared at him with a dumbstruck sort of expression with Bentley breaking into nervous laughter._

"_I get it," the tortoise chuckled somewhat. "It was a test. But wait a second, that window was bullet proof?"_

"_Not hardly," said the agent with a slight smile. "They used blanks. The proximity of the blast caused the window to crack like that; leaving you to believe they used armor piercing rounds on an armored window."_

"_But what about," Penelope asked, pointing at one of the men she'd shot in the foot. Bentley came up behind her and they both paused to inspect the unconscious man's foot. There was a blast mark in his shoe and the front of it seemed to have been damaged but there was no actual bullet hole in the dress shoe's material._

"_Dang," Sly mused, reaching his left paw to his chin. "That was a clever use of misdirection."_

"_What about the blood?" Penelope asked, noting that there was a red stain on the ape's lower lip._

"_Blood capsules," replied the agent with a slight grin. His teeth were stained red as well from the dye. "It tastes like strawberries; I got it at a post-Halloween sale at the mall yesterday… half off everything in stock. Let me call in an ambulance for these guys. I don't think they realized you'd hold your own. We were going to take you to a training facility and run a mock capture and question seminar, where you would have had the chance to escape to test your melee capabilities as a team."_

_(**fault one, right here! If the US Government wanted to run a mock torture test on our heroes, they'd have used tranquilizer darts and made our heroes attend. They wouldn't have given up and said "oh, well you passed Capture Evade training, so we'll just skip out on the other! No… So I removed the need for a torture training class all together)**_

"_Did we pass?" Murray asked._

"_Well," said the marmoset with a slight shrug. "You certainly passed the 'evading capture' training, not that it was part of the program. We actually expected you guys to escape from the mock interrogation facility. Heck, I thought it was time consuming anyhow. I'll radio in and have them call it off. Get back in the car, let's head to your gear-training seminar at the CIA Headquarters."_

"_No more tricks right?" Penelope inquired, opening the passenger door to the Crown Victoria._

_The agent tilted his head with a slight chuckle, sliding back into the driver's seat. "Don't worry, we had a plan B just incase you overpowered your attackers. Let's go." **(Now that was a lame sounding line. After writing that, I stopped and started the beginning fresh! Anyway, now you know what one of my outtake sections look like. I'm notorious for hating 17 pages worth and starting over completely fresh, lol. And now… to finish hammering out chapter 3 for ya! )

* * *

**_

_-kit_


	3. Mercenary Outpost

Chapter -3-  
Mercenary Outpost

**The Second World War** had been rather hard on the now-rusting aircraft carrier. Beached in the mud, the aging ship towered above the palm trees and beautiful blue horizon of tropical water. It was just a bit unreal for Sly's imagination… The ship's back deck had cracked halfway down the hull, hanging off the stern, like an oversized ramp of rotting wood. Snapped in half, a massive gap started just fifty yards from the aft section, where soft sandy beach rested, cool in the afternoon shade.

The brownish conning tower still stood above the flight deck but the windows were too grimy to see through at any distance. The raccoon emerged from the tropical shrubbery, using his Binoc-u-com to scout the exterior. Men in armor walked the deck and traversed back and forth over the catwalks alongside the abandoned control tower.

From this distance, far down below, Cooper couldn't tell what species they were but none of that really mattered at this point. Local fauna was nearly nonexistent and the area seemed quiet for the moment, other than the wind which howled through the gap in the ship. Sly sprinted across the beach and put his back up against the rusty, barnacle-covered hull, looking up the side; no one saw him. He hated trying to be stealthy in the day time as it was far more difficult than he would have preferred.

With his back to the metallic beast, he could feel the subtle creaking and groaning from within the bowels of the steel-bellied creature. It had probably been here for close to six decades or whenever the ship became decommissioned. Cooper opened the binocular communicator once more and, just as he'd expected, Bentley's image appeared on the miniature monitor.

"Okay Sly," Said the tortoise from the tiny screen in the lower corner of the eyepiece. "This ship docked here during a hurricane sometime in the late forties or early fifties. Looks to me like the weight was the factor in this thing cracking in half but it seems to have settled over the years; you should be plenty safe onboard. After all, the bad guys don't seem too worried about it. Now, listen up," continued the shell-backed brain of the operation. "You have two ways to enter; the hole where the propeller would normally still be…. Or… it looks like there is a hole in the bow. My suggestion is to infiltrate the latter; you'd have to leap across the gap if you started from the back."

Sly knew that the bow was the front; he'd taken to sailing to some extent after learning about one of his pirating ancestors and fell in love with it from there. He crept alongside the ship until coming to a chiseled plate on the side with Japanese lettering. "What's this say, Bentley?" Sly asked, pointing the Binocular lens at the inscription in the metal.

"That's impossible," Bentley muttered. "Give me a minute; I need to confirm a few things." The channel closed and Sly began the waiting game. Once Bentley returned to the communication device, his voice was a bit calmer but still held a tone of perplexity. "Sly, I'm really bewildered, here. According to the internet, the Chuyo, part time training barge and part time escort carrier, sank in Yokosuka in December of 1943 to the Submarine 'Sailfish' and…"

Sly was quick to cut his friend off, interjecting a simple, "The ship is right here, Bentley. Are you sure you translated the words on the side the right way, bud?"

"I'm positive; not only that," Bentley's voice trailed off over the headset that Sly had hidden in his ear but it didn't last long. "From where I'm at, here at the Safe House, the ship really does look like the image of the Chuyo that's on the internet. So, either history was screwed up, the ship was raised and refitted – highly unlikely considering the Japanese economy with the war going on, possibly an independent party raised it and refitted it – also unlikely, OR…" The nasal voice paused once more, leaving Sly to simply roll his eyes for a moment. Bentley continued, "It's a copy built to look like the Chuyo. It wasn't even their best carrier; it was a refit merchant ship that wound up getting used as a training center. What would have it out here?"

Sly changed the subject to some degree, asking, "Can you look up stuff on the net to pull up blue prints?"

"No," The turtle replied over the communicator. "I've got an exterior model but no one has really cared to post the interior blue prints on the internet for that ship. It really baffles me how the Chuyo would…" Again, Bentley got cut off abruptly… this time, when Sly put the binocular communicator into his pocket.

The raccoon began to slink down the length of the hull, keeping an eye out for anything that might move on either side of him. Once he got to the crack in the hull, he placed his feet into the water that seemed to bubble up from the hole and knelt down into the warm, clear liquid. Sly placed his paws on the edge of the hole and slid his legs through, pushing himself at an angle, downwards, until he was inside the ship.

Sound resonance caused the groaning and soft howling of the light breeze to become louder; it was like hearing the bass-end of a wind tunnel through a metal cup on a string. The strange noise caused his ears to flicker in irritation but he otherwise ignored the sounds. Crumbled metal debris greeted him just inside, neck deep in the water. The section was narrow and didn't seem to yield any immediate access to the rest of the ship.

Cooper reached into his backpack and unfastened his cane from his knapsack, sliding it through the nylon holster, up and out, drawing it over his shoulder and pulling it close to his chest. The raccoon lifted his muzzle, gazing straight up to the broad daylight, several stories above him. "All right, piece of cake," He mused aloud.

One of the new tricks he'd learned had everything to do with a high impact device placed at the tip of the cane. The problem was, it could only be used twice. Right now suddenly seemed like a great time to debut the new instrument and so he tightened his paws around the cane's hilt while relaxing the rest of his body. Sly lifted the cane upwards then plunged it back down, into the water and against the submerged metal deck. Without warning, the cane launched him straight up into the air.

Using the inertia granted by the cane's new power-up, Sly arched his back and placed his feet against the narrow walls, beginning to pump his feet. It was like peddling up hill but, really, he was running up a wall after having the help of a powerful boost. Gravity was nearly beginning to catch up with his vertical thrust and yet the opening was incredibly close. Sly shoved his cane upwards, just as his ascension came to a halt. With a grunt, he pushed his arms upwards only for the hook to wrap around the edge with a satisfying 'clang'.

His feet now dangled in the air; beneath him was a dark, gloomy pit; the bottom could no longer be seen. With only his upper body strength, Sly hoisted himself up the cane and to the metallic edge. He continued to scamper upwards until his body spilled from the hole, lying besides it on the lowest level observation deck.

Several feet away, he could see the rusty inverted "L" shaped hooks that were used to hold trooper boats for beach deployment. The hooks were empty but the rope that ran through its groves seemed to be new, outfitted with a shiny chrome support clip. An electronic wench, practically brand new, sat on top of the left arch, perched like a bird.

Sly reached into his pocket, pulling sand from his pocket. He grinned at the sudden occurring thought then crept across the low level deck and removed a cap from the machine. He used the hook of his cane, in his other paw, dipping the tip inside the hole. Motor Oil. Sly's grin widened.

Dumping the wet sand into the motor oil, Sly quickly replaced the cap on top the machine then he glanced around for a doorway to lead him inside of the ship. His eyes fell upon just such an entrance; he abandoned the machine, leaving it to break down next time someone tried to board the carrier via small boat.

Sly headed for the doorway, touching his cane to the bulkheads inside. The interior was dim and rusted with pock marks in the metal, throughout the narrow corridor. He reached a paw to his ear, touched a button on the Bluetooth headset and simply said, "I'm in."

* * *

**This island was no tropical paradise** as far as Carmelita Fox was concerned. Sandy beaches melted into lush green grass and tropical foliage. Palm trees swayed in the breeze and the warm weather and calm, comfortable water were relaxing. However, Carmelita knew trouble lurked somewhere nearby. It was her sixth sense; she called it her "Cop Sense". 

Deciding to stray from the beaches, she wondered up a dusty path nestled between thick jungle foliage, dense with the canopy of palmetto trees and the like. It was quiet, minus the soft susurration of waves from behind her and the sound of leaves in the breeze from above. Occasionally an exotic bird would cry out for its mate but beyond that, this island felt silent.

Carmelita kept her eyes on the sand, casually striding further down the sandy path. Something caught her nose and she paused, sniffing at the air. Her whiskers twitched about just slightly then her ears flickered in annoyance. Something appeared to be near but she couldn't place a furry finger on what it was that bothered her. That's when her eyes zeroed in on the tiniest detail and a smile was soon to follow.

Inspector Fox knelt down at the left wall of the jungle path and reached into a bush. She wrapped her fingertips around the small object that had caught her eye, pulling free a shoe lace. The slack ended and the shoestring became taut. She pushed her paws back into the tropical green shrub, clasping her fingers around what appeared to be a boot. With a hard tug, she pulled a leg and the rest of an unconscious man out onto the path.

He was dressed with a tactical jacket and an ammo belt over his shoulders and chest. Something else that caught her eye was a small set of green feathers at the end of what appeared to be a dart. It was half-buried in the fur of his neck, above the vest. At first glance it looked like a leaf from the jungle foliage had become stuck in his fur but close up, she could tell it was far more sinister.

Plucking the dart from his skin, Carmelita lifted it up, bringing it close to her eye. The dart was crudely constructed out of a special wood-like stem. The point appeared to be lumpy, unlike a normal metal tip. She lifted her other paw, brushing her fingernail against it. It had the texture of a thin piece of coral but part of the tip had been broken off, left inside of the victim.

She quickly dipped her left paw into a pocket on her vest and retrieved a small plastic bag. Putting the dart into the evidence bag, she folded and replaced the plastic baggie in her pocket. Carmelita was quick to search the man for identification but he wore none. No dog tags, no wallet… _nothing_.

Inspector Fox then retrieved a tape recorder from her breast pocket. With a flick of her thumb she activated it then said, "Found a male, looking to be about twenty-two to twenty-five. Unconscious in the bushes; dart found in his neck with green feathers. The tip isn't metal but it could be coral or something similar. Obviously tipped in something that causes the victim to sleep." She paused from her vocal observations then continued, detailing race, fur color, eye color and labeled him as "John Doe – A" without skipping a beat.

She'd done this plenty of times before. Carmelita Fox knew her job well and while she wasn't normally assigned to doing homicide, she'd surly seen her share of random bodies. Once she was finished with her description, the tape recorder was placed back into her breast pocket in the vest and she continued onward.

At the end of the trail, she knelt down and took out a set of binoculars. Zooming in, Carmelita took a moment to scout out a derelict aircraft carrier that looked to be too old and outdated to be considered current. A large Japanese symbol covered the side of the hull, proving that it was easily from the 40's. Japan didn't have its own military; their constitution, written at the beginning of the Vietnam Era, was designed in a way that America was Japan's acting military force. It didn't take a genius to know that fact, only an education which was something Carmelita possessed.

Her eyes lifted from the binoculars for a moment then she gazed back into them. She zoomed in as much as the device would allow then quirked a brow in confusion. A gray-clad individual brandished a hint of something gold in color, using it to take down a man on the flight deck. The quick-moving character then slid down into the flight deck via a hole or possibly a maintenance hatch, disappearing from sight.

"You've got to be kidding me," she whispered to herself. She lowered her eyes from the binoculars, gazing down at the engagement ring on her finger. "Please don't let him be out there stealing," the vixen pleaded softly. "I've got to find out what he's doing here," added Carmelita with a decisive tone in her voice. It was time to find a way across the shimmering cove without being spotted.

* * *

**Cooper dropped through a rotted hole in the wooden planks of the aging flight deck** with grace. He landed in a kneeling position behind a mercenary who happened to be patrolling the hallway. Before the gunman knew what hit him, a paw came over his mouth and something sharp was pushed into the back of the man's neck, administering a sleeping agent. The grayish-white furred tiger's eyes widened then he began to sink to the deck. Sly held him carefully, lowering the body down without a sound. 

Sly then stepped over his torso and headed onward, further down the hallway. He came to an intersection and stopped, gazing down the perpendicular corridor. He then glanced over his shoulder. Satisfied that he wasn't being followed, Sly continued forward. To his immediate surprise, something touched the nape of his neck, only a few feet further down the hall. Cooper froze, lifting his ears straight up to listen.

"Who are you?" the voice asked. It was gruff and angry sounding; the gun against his neck caused his body to tense. Sly took a long, slow breath then lifted both of his paws slowly. "I asked who you were," the voice repeated.

"Just a tourist," replied Sly, slowly turning around.

"Hey, don't you dare move," exclaimed the man in a fairly hushed voice. "I've got a gun to the back of your head. If you look at me, I'll plug you."

Sly was smooth; he was a third of the way into the pivot but couldn't yet see the man's face. His eyes dropped, looking at the position of his gunner's feet then relaxed his body. Quicker than the average thief, Sly Cooper jerked his left elbow back, catching the barrel. His paws stayed elevated but his feet did the rest of the job; Sly kicked a foot back, catching the man's knee.

Cooper then doubled over and backed up, thrusting his tail and hip into the man to throw him off balance. Now that Sly had doubled over, the silenced pistol had no target. It fired with a gritty clicking noise as the mercenary toppled back. Sly pivoted hard, burying his left shoulder into the man's gut and wrapping his right arm around the gunner's waist.

A hard elbow was brought down into Sly's back but he remained resilient. The raccoon clinched his right paw into a fist then brought it down like a hammer into the back of the mercenary's kneecap. They went to the floor with Sly suddenly gaining the upper hand in the situation. Cooper shifted his weight, bringing his hip and his shoulder down into the prone man. Simultaneously, Sly wrapped his left paw around the gunner's wrist, forcing his thumb claw into a pressure point so that the gun was released. Sly quickly vied for control of the weapon.

Within two full seconds, Cooper had forced the weapon away and brought it to the man's thigh, pulling the trigger. It fired without a single sound. Sly's shoulder was pushed up against the underside of the man's jaw so hard that the mercenary couldn't open his mouth to scream. All that could be managed was a hum of pain to emanate from the man's throat.

Sly rolled off of the mercenary, coming quickly to one knee and placing the barrel between the man's eyes. "That wasn't as graceful as my normal disarm tactic but it sure worked, didn't it? Now, are you going to be a hero and scream for help or are you going to behave, so I don't have to kill you?"

"I…" Suddenly, the gunman's eyes began to flutter shut and his head lolled back. Sly blinked at the man for a moment then glanced down at his leg. There was a distinct lack of blood, under the consideration of a gunshot wound at point blank range. Sly blinked twice then opened the magazine to inspect the bullets.

"Sleeping rounds?" he quipped. "This guy was going to take me down with sleep rounds?" Sly quickly slapped the clip back into the gun handle and began to search the man for real weapons. A handgun and a magnesium grenade were located in his clothes, both of which were confiscated. Sly removed the ammunition from the real gun then tossed it into a nearby duct.

The jaguar was lying on the floor in a state of unconsciousness. Blood soaked through his pants leg but it wasn't nearly as much as a real bullet would have caused. The point blank round would have been lethal against the back of Sly's head, for sure. Cooper was glad, though, that it wasn't a real bullet because it would have been difficult to hide a puddle of blood.

Once the raccoon was sure this man was completely unarmed, he pulled the body further down the hallway and shoved him into the first door they came to. "A latrine," Sly chuckled to himself. "When you wake up, I'm sure your commanding officer will make you clean this bathroom until it's new again. Happy dreams, buddy." Cooper shut the door behind himself then stepped back out into the hallway, armed with the sleep-rounds.

"This spy stuff is easier than I thought," said Cooper in a confident whisper. He gave the weapon a twirl on his paw, stopping to try and catch the handle every so often. He needed a bit of practice to get it just right and so he sustained twirling it on his finger with the safety switch engaged. At the end of the next hallway, Sly peered around the corner, keeping the weapon off to the side so that he could continue with his little twirling exercise.

Every so often, he caught the handle just right. It wasn't taking long to get a feel for the twirling gun. After all, if Sly wanted to become a Government Spy, he had to be as flashy as the ones who did it in the cinemas. The raccoon, satisfied that the hallway was clear, ventured out to cross it. Within a few moments, he came to a corrugated set of stairs that led upwards. Sly took them one by one, slowly, until he found himself on the bridge.

The entire conning tower was slanted, making the deck uneven. The ancient controls were useless but neat to look at. Cooper knelt down and approached the windows, holstering the sidearm in the side of his pants. His paws slid up over the metal frame, peering out onto the decrepit flight deck, down below. A group of men were out on the far end, carrying gas canisters.

After a moment, the droning sound of a helicopter came into range. It streaked by at a high rate of speed then the tail end came about quickly. The skilled pilot began to climb, gaining altitude. Once the Blackhawk was approximately one thousand feet from the deck it began to roll over in midair. As soon as it was inverted it began to roll forward in the follow-through motion of a loop, in what was known as a "Split-S" maneuver. The chopper stopped; its skids were approximately ten feet from the flight deck.

It lowered to a calm and orderly landing with the crew rushing up with the gas canisters to perform their duty. Sly had a bit of piloting experience and was pretty impressed especially since the maneuver was done with a Blackhawk helicopter. The pilot-side door swung open and a young woman stepped out. She was toned and athletic looking from what Sly could tell. He pulled out the Binoculars in his knapsack; they were fitted with a special microphone that picked up any sound that was in the direct path of the binoculars.

At first, the noise of the dying chopper blades filled the microphone with static sound. He lowered the binoculars to the woman with the figure who had piloted the machine, zooming in on her. She wore some sort of high-tech eye patch over her left eye, which she removed while walking across the flight deck. Sly zoomed in further, using the binoculars to snapshot a photograph of her face. Her right eye was blue while her left was green; a very unique feature indeed.

Now that the chopper blades were slowing to a halt, he could hear people speaking over the unidirectional microphone. "Baroness," one of them called to the woman. She turned about, her lengthy squirrel tail lifting along her backside. It was then that Sly realized she bore a remarkable resemblance to Sandra Moore.

"Dang," Sly muttered from up on the bridge. "This just gets better and better." He watched the exchange of words between the woman known as 'Baroness' and the crew chief that seemed to be running things up on the flight deck.

"We've spotted an intruder," the man told her. Cooper couldn't be sure but from what he could tell, the chief was a wallaby.

"Secure the parameter," said the woman. Her voice sounded a great deal like Sandra's own. Sly recalled the lady being able to manipulate her appearance and began to wonder if it was her in some sort of disguise. The eyes could have been contacts and the tuft of bangs could easily be achieved with hairspray. The Baroness then said, "Do you have an ID on the intruder?"

"An Inspector from Interpol," replied the chief with a firm nod. "We think she's here to perform an investigation on those five men we killed."

"Killing her could draw more attention," said the female pilot. "Instead, capture and detain her. We'll figure out a way to kill her so that it looks like an accident. Perhaps we could drown her then set her body adrift on a damaged boat a few clicks east, in the main shipping lanes… that would throw the media off of our scent."

"It'll be done, ma'am," replied the man who then turned back away from the pilot and focused his attention on getting her chopper ready for its next flight. Sly shook his head with a sigh. Carmelita was already on the island and he'd have to intercept her before the scouting parties could find her. That was going to be difficult. Not only that, he'd have to leave the aircraft carrier, which would set him backwards from his mission progress.

"Sly to Bentley," Cooper said into his radio. The band for the headset was buried under his fur with the earpiece planted deep into his ear, so as not to be easily lost.

"This is Bentley, I read ya, Sly. Over," replied the tortoise on the other end.

"I'm uploading an image file," Sly explained, adding, "This lady just flew in; really good pilot and very athletic build. She looks just like the CIA Lady. Find out everything you can. I want to know what I'm up against. If we're facing some sort of double agent, then we're in over our heads. Don't contact Sandra, contact her boss."

"Hold on Sly," Bentley said. The radio went quiet for a moment.

"Sly?" It was another voice on the line. "This is AJ, I'm about to leave the safe house and I overheard your conversation. Is the woman going by the name 'Baroness' by any chance or were you not able to listen in on her conversation?"

Sly slid down onto his haunches, staying below the windows of the abandoned bridge. "As a matter of fact, she went by that name. So you know what's going on?"

"That's _not_ Sandra Moore," AJ said over the radio. "But because that woman is involved, Sandra is going to what to know and possibly get involved with this mission personally. Baroness is Sandra's twin sister. Her name is Cleopatra Moore but she goes by 'Baroness Von Hilderburg' as dubbed by a German chancellor back in '87. Their only distinguish characteristic is that Cleo has a green left eye. She can't wear contacts in that eye because, according to our profile on her, her left eye is easily irritated by contacts. Also, her left eye has poor vision for some reason, so she wears an optical enhancement device when she flies. I'm not surprised to hear she's involved in this. There are still a few people loyal to Adolf Hitler; they want this artifact back."

Sly couldn't comprehend where this whole thing was going. "What in the heck does a dead Nazi Leader have to do with our mission and this woman?"

"It's complicated," replied AJ over the radio. "Nazi Germany possessed this artifact from the late '30's until the mid '40's. When America seized the object, they reported it to the media. Within eighty minutes of the news getting out, Hitler ended his life, leaving the world to assume it was because he was giving up. This lady, Cleopatra, isn't one of those Neo-Nazi idiots you see at a hole-in-the-wall gun store on the east end… no, she's smart, shrewd and is paid _very_ well by this German-owned syndicate. If they're involved then it means everything has just gotten a whole lot deeper."

"Outstanding," muttered the raccoon, shaking his head slowly. Sly dropped his head back against the metal bulkhead, gazing up at the rusty ceiling which was covered with cobwebs and even had a bird's nest in a far corner. "Until I see them both, at the same time, I'm going to keep my guard up around her, Agent Jacob White. Anyhow, these thugs have spotted Carmelita so I've got to backtrack and find her. We can't have her get hurt and these guys are already talking about killing her and making it look like an accident."

"Listen," said White over the communicator. "Keep your position and stay concealed. I'll get Inspector Fox to the carrier undetected. When the three of us arrive, we'll hijack a small attack sub and take it down to the domed city. I want to get this artifact and get the hell out of dodge by nightfall. Backtracking only costs time. We're a team, Mister Cooper."

"Fair enough, Mister White," Sly replied with a frown. He didn't like the idea of someone else rescuing his girl but the fact that AJ White was a highly trained agent did provide some measure of relief to his worries. "Be careful with her. We're newly betrothed; I have plans with that girl when this is all over. Getting her killed will really piss me off."

"I usually don't work with others," AJ said over the line. "But I know the value of teamwork. Don't worry, I'm a ghost and when I find Carmelita she and I will remain completely undetected with ease. Just remember, these mercenaries now know that there has been an intruder so they're on high alert. Stay sharp, Cooper."

"You too, man. Do your thing," Sly said, closing the channel.

* * *

**Carmelita Fox's sharp eyes caught sight of** something concrete that appeared to be covered by thick jungle. She drew back the leaves and well placed branches that were used to conceal the old Japanese war bunker. A plate with Japanese lettering was adjacent to the entrance but it was too faded to try and translate. Inspector Fox stepped inside, drawing her gun and a flashlight. She crossed her left paw with the light over her right paw with the gun and stepped inside slowly. 

The interior was abandoned. A shelf lined one of the far walls with an old Arisaka Rifle hanging from the shelving boards on the northern bulkhead. A chrysanthemum with sixteen petals graced the weapon's receiver, nearly faded from the metal due to its age. Carmelita holstered her sidearm then lifted the weapon into her paws and gazed down the barrel with a slight frown. It had not been cared for in decades. The mechanism behind the chamber was useless from lack of attention and yet the fine craftsmanship put into the weapon was still obvious.

Her eyes followed the contours of the weapon, taking in every detail. An Inspector who had a deep appreciation for quality firearms, whether used for sport, contest shooting or game hunting, could easily lose herself for a moment over this antique. "What a beautiful old gun," mused the vixen aloud.

A masculine voice from behind managed to startle her from her reverie. "It's far more than an old gun," said Agent Jacob White, stepping into the bunker behind her. She turned her flashlight towards the male fox, pausing to look him over. He continued, "It's a collection of crafted parts coming together to create a powerful instrument."

"I'm glad to see someone else who shares my appreciation of a good weapon," replied Carmelita, adding, "I'm Interpol Inspector Carmelita Fox. I'm doing an investigation involving five murdered men in conjunction with the attempted theft of an ancient artifact shipped on a Museum cargo ship that passed through this area last week when a storm caused them to veer out of the main shipping lanes." To her words, the man smiled with amusement. She ignored him and added, "Who're you and do you know anything about those five dead men?"

"That was quite a mouthful of an explanation, Inspector Fox. I wasn't aware that five men died on this island," Agent White said with a careful smile. "I'm here to investigate this so-called cargo ship, the mercenary presence on this island and report my findings to the American Government. That's a Japanese World War Two Arisaka rifle you're holding."

"Yes, indeed it is," she added. "Well, since you're here, Mister, I'm also curious to know if you've come across a raccoon by the name of Sly Cooper. I've seen him on this island and am looking to investigate his presence, here."

The agent approached her, opening his paws to the Arisaka. He drew it gently into his paws, easing it from her own. "Don't trust your boyfriend, Inspector? Don't worry, I'm CIA; I know everything," he told her with a knowing smile. "You know, this gun is like a relationship, Inspector Fox. The man is the wood and the woman is the metal. Without one another, you don't work. You forge each other to accommodate the needs of the relationship's components. He is designed to certain tolerances. He can endure extremes for short periods but too much harsh weather, or rough treatment, and the wood cracks, warps and turns gnarled and bitter. If he attempts to put too much power through the chamber, the metal may stress and form fractures. Forcing it to do things for which it is not designed will cause the metal to weaken slowly, the danger building over time through repeated misuse."

Carmelita tilted her head, listening to the man explain the design of the rifle in a metaphor that resembled her relationship with Cooper. He continued, telling her, "If the weapon isn't treated properly, much like that relationship, POW! It explodes in your face. The blast can even kill you… or should I say… the relationship. You'd do well to trust your beau, Inspector. He's not here to do wrong by you."

"What do you know that you're not telling me, agent?" Inspector Fox demanded, folding her arms. The flashlight was still in her left paw, now pointed towards the floor.

"Mister Cooper is here with me, investigating a theft that already occurred. We commissioned him for his experience as a Master Thief; I am utilizing his knowledge on artifacts and methods of theft to determine if the Museum Cargo ship really is legit or if they're smuggling contraband and stolen artifacts."

"And I don't even know anything about _you_," Carmelita replied, lifting the flashlight. It trailed up over his toned thighs, tight and muscular abs, passing up over his broad chest and shoulders. Finally the light stopped on his attractive face and intense eyes. While her heart was given to Sly, she couldn't help but admit to herself that this man was deadly attractive. It was natural instinct for a vixen to acknowledge such a handsome fox. Not only that, he apparently shared her passion for weapons… or as he called it – a powerful instrument. "Where's your identification, Mister?"

"Agent Jacob White," he told her with a relaxed smile. The Arisaka was offered back while his free paw dipped into his fatigues, drawing out a wallet with his paramilitary CIA identification badge. "I'm here on an unrelated mission concerning terrorists who might be shipping for this so-called museum. We wanted to ascertain if their cargo was being used for display in a South American museum or if it was being stolen, sold and used to fund terrorism. I don't know anything of five deaths nor is it in my mandate to investigate that. Since we're here, perhaps we can collaborate. If I learn anything, I'll pass it your way and vice-versa."

"So you're working with Cooper," she said slowly. "He's not here to steal anything?"

"No ma'am," said Agent White, covering for the raccoon. "He's here as a source of information to help us determine if thieves were working this island in relation to the museum cargo ship. I assure you that our cases are completely unrelated. However, if I learn anything that would pertain to your investigation, I will pass it your way so long as you're willing to return the favor. We'll call it a Professional Courtesy, hmm?"

Carmelita nodded slowly, looking at the badge then back at his awkwardly handsome visage. She lowered her eyes, gazing at her ring to remind herself how pleased she was to be wearing it. "I think we can manage inter-agency cooperation, Agent White."

"Please, Agent Jacob or _AJ_ would do fine, Inspector," said the Reynard with a pleasant smile. "This bunker faces the cove where the Aircraft Carrier is beached in the mud. The museum staff is using hired guards to run their operation; there is a mercenary command center fully operational in that abandoned carrier. I'm not sure what their job here on the island consists of but Sly and I plan to find out everything. I'll tell him that I saw you."

Carmelita nodded slowly then told the man, "You do realize I'm going to verify your identification with my Intern Winthrop; he'll let me know if you're lying or not."

"By all means, I wouldn't lie to you about something that I couldn't prove," said the fox with a gentlemanly smile. "Have you thought to try your investigation on the shore-side, with the museum and the cargo ship that claims to have veered into this area out of the main shipping lanes? We're pretty far from South America; I can't imagine why they'd really deviate from course enough to pass through this area. A storm seems too cliché of an answer, don't you agree?"

The Inspector shook her head slowly. "I don't have enough information on that side of the investigation yet," said Carmelita. "I'm starting with a piece of paper found in the boot of one of the five dead men. Its latitude and longitude pointed to the center of this island."

"I see," said the agent. "Well, good luck to you, Inspector Fox. I'll let you know if I find anything that might help your case." Jacob gave her a charming smile.

"How has Cooper's performance been?" she asked, looking a bit pensive. Sly _did_ tell her that he was leaving to do a Government job, the other day.

"You worry too much," White replied. "And as far as the man's …performance? He speaks highly of you." He'd amused himself with the reply, waggling his brows at her. It's a joke that Sandra Moore would have gotten but Carmelita was a bit more on the naïve side.

"What does _that_ have to do with his performance?" she inquired. She licked her lips apprehensively, wondering what Cooper had said about her.

The agent smiled a bit; he was obviously a flirt and a player, but didn't share Sly Cooper's style of flattery. White approached the woman and patted her left shoulder gently. "The word _performance_ is actually just a variation of the word 'romance' with four extra letters. Sly speaks highly of you; a dexterous chap like himself probably goes hand in hand, performance _and_ romance. I bet he could charm your heart out then please you to no end. _OH_, you mean his performance regarding our _mission_? It's quite admirable, madam." Jacob White smiled, patting her cheek, then turned for the exit. "Regardless, he speaks of you in a way that suggests to me how _in love_ he is with Carmelita Montoya Fox. Lucky guy; I've not been in love since my teenage days."

She blushed furiously, lifting her free paw, shining the light in his face. "You're a professional," said the vixen. "Enough of that sort of talk; there is no place for the word 'romance' on a battlefield. Mind your professional manners, Agent."

"Sly is too busy to flirt with you at this very moment," said White, adding, "But that doesn't mean I can't pass along his sentiment towards you. I'm willing to wager the guy would do anything for ya, Inspector. I'm a good judge of character and I think the young man is deeply in love with you." To his words, Carmelita didn't know what to say. She just nodded in a slow, awkward way.

Carmelita was quick to change the subject, asking, "What is his mission, exactly?"

"Confidential," replied Jacob. "It's exactly what he's already told you; a government commission. I actually told you more than you're supposed to know, so feel privileged. You see, Inspector Fox, Sly's job is to help us ensure that certain things don't fall into the wrong paws. I certainly hope that his involvement in these issues do not cause a problem. For now, I say we forget about that subject and move onto the topic of progress. I don't wish to keep you from your investigation just as I'm sure you do not wish to hamper my own progress. I simply followed you into this bunker to get a feel for the third party on the playing field. Stay sharp, Inspector. There are mercenaries in the area who shoot first and ask question's later. I'm not sure if they have anything to do with your case but, like I said earlier, I'll contact you if we learn anything about those five dead men."

"I would appreciate that," replied Carmelita. "Thanks for thee… ah… advice and the bit about the rifle." She wedged it back onto the shelf where she'd found it, shrugging slightly. It was strange… the man was incredibly handsome but had the personality of a jock; an egotistical womanizer whose psychological profile probably labeled him as a loner by the end of the night. The kind of man who said the naughty things to make a woman blush and smile then pushed her away by the end of the evening.

"Sizing me up?" he asked as if knowing her very thoughts.

Carmelita face-faulted and casually replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Agent. I'll still need to verify your claim of identity. You can be rather pugnacious, I'm willing to bet. Sex makes you open and friendly by day and yet, by night, I'm wagering that you push away for reasons unknown so as to remain unattached."

"And you're as pragmatic as your profile," Jacob said, adding, "but at least I was right: you were just sizing me up."

"I…" Carmelita's expression was replaced by a scowl, balling up her paws and placing them upon her shapely hips. "So you know everything that women do, thereby making you God's gift to us, eh? And what's this about _my profile_, Agent?"

The handsome Reynard placed his paws together and smiled dashingly. His charming appearance was rather disarming. "Please, just call me Jacob, AJ, or something more personal than a mere title. I'm only professional when I'm in the field. I find that separating my life from my work, whenever possible, keeps me sane."

"Keeps you sane?" she asked, quirking a brow. "And what were you saying about my _profile_?" added the vixen, careful not to be deviated from her last question.

"I'm a paramilitary assassin," said White. "If I dwell on every neck I've snapped, it would start to bother me and I'd lose the grasp on the line between humanity and …well, you know what I mean. As far as your profile," he headed for the exit to the old bunker, glanced over his shoulder and simply said, "I'm CIA. I know what color your Intern's bowtie is, Inspector. Blue and lime striped, if you must know."

"Bull," she grumbled, flipping open her satellite phone. Carmelita brushed passed the agent, heading outside. She dialed her office and waited for the connection to be established. After a moment, Winthrop answered in his typical nervous, nerdy voice. Carmelita then said, "It's Carmelita; I need you to run a name trace in the database. Take your time, I have a moment to spare… and incidentally, what color is your bowtie today?"

The thin piezo speaker made his voice sound more nasal than normal. On the other line, Winthrop said, "Blue and lime; I'm doing stripes today because I got coffee on my polka dotted one. Give me a moment to pull this up… oh and one more thing." His voice became that much more nervous. Carmelita could easily picture him fidgeting.

She tried to hide the surprise in the fact that Jacob was right about the tie color by simply and casually asking, "Yes?"

"Are you _really_ engaged to Sly Cooper…?" He sounded depressed over the news.

Carmelita's jaw dropped just a bit. "I don't care to mix my personal life with my work and that goes for co-workers, too. Just find the information; Agent Jacob White. Cross-reference it with 'paramilitary', 'CIA' and 'vulpine' please."

Winthrop got quiet for a moment. After about three minutes, his voice resumed, telling her, "I can confirm that he's a CIA Agent, that he's an American red fox and that he's a skilled paramilitary trainer and high security field agent. His security clearance makes him invisible to our files beyond that information. I have a photograph from the American Department of Motor Vehicles; he looks like a suave guy. I bet he gets a lot of girlfriends – lucky guy. He's not trying to charm _you_ is he, Inspector? What little profile that he _does _have, refers to him as a loner-type."

"That much I've guessed," she told the intern over the phone, adding, "He's not trying to charm me; I'm engaged."

"So it's true…" Winthrop trailed off, sounding depressed again.

"I…" Carmelita just blinked. She walked right into that; her free paw lifted, face-palming with a groan. "Mind your own business, mister!" She quickly disconnected the phone call, placing the satellite phone into her knapsack.

"That was graceful," AJ said from the entrance of the bunker. His arms were folded and he was leaning against the concrete doorway with his ankles crossed. "I wouldn't try to charm another man's woman, anyhow. …Unless of course she _offered_ to cheat on him with me. You see, I prefer my relationships with no strings attached. Who knows; if I died tomorrow, I'd be leaving someone broken hearted. That's not something I wish to do."

"You mind _your_ own business, too, _Agent_." Carmelita turned to face him, narrowing her gaze at him for a moment. However, it was hard to stay mad at him; not because he was charming, but because he was just Goddamn attractive. "Where is Cooper?"

"Your _fiancé _is just fine," Jacob said, with a pleasant smile.

"Don't push it," she snapped, looking away from him.

AJ approached her, stepping in front of her redirected gaze. "You're the one who is labeling everyone with a title," he reminded with a delightful, gentlemanly smile. "I'm just playing by your rules, Inspector."

"Okay," the vixen huffed. "So, _Sly_ is just fine, _Jacob_. Where in the world do you get off on trying to be charming all the damn time?"

"I'm a secret agent," AJ told her. "A spy, my dear. I do what James Bond does in real life. I have to be good at my job and look good while doing it or the mission stands to be jeopardized. Sly's a good lookin' fellow. You've good taste, Carmelita. He's athletic and has amiable eyes. He's smart enough not to be taken advantage of and he's got that 'boyish rogue' charm that the girls eventually fall for. I'm sure it took years to attract your attention."

Carmelita folded her arms, turning away from him again. "He got my _attention_ after his first professional-level heist." She took a long, slow breath to relax her frustrations then asked, "Are we going to stand around, gabbing all day?"

Jacob grinned inwardly, offering a shrug. "I've gained everything I intended by introducing myself," said the foxy gentleman, walking back to the bunker. He began pushing the branches and shrubbery back in front of the door, the way it was found. "I've assessed the situation and decided that this operation is not in jeopardy, nor are you in immediate peril. Therefore, you're not a threat to me, nor are you a threat to Sly. Even with you here, we'll be able to finish our mission with no interference. That's what I came to do; size you up and do the mental math. Stay sharp, Carmelita Fox. You're an attractive young lady; I'd hate to see you become a bloody pulp at the mercy of a Mercenary's machinegun."

He then began to walk down the nearest trail, calling over his shoulder to her. "I'll tell Sly that you send your warmest salutations, _Inspector_." And with that, he disappeared into the jungle. Carmelita watched him go, keeping her paws folded across her chest. He was a handsome devil but with her heart _engaged_ to Sly Cooper, the agent's charm was something that rolled right off her shoulder without a second thought.

She then whispered to herself, "Stay out of trouble, Sly. Maybe some greater power brought our missions to cross paths so that I could keep you out of trouble… I trust you, baby. Don't blow it."

* * *

A/N: _And so ends the third chapter. It's not nearly as action packed or romantic as some are expecting right now, but…! It will get better! Now that everyone is introduced and the scene is set… it's time for the action, romance and drama to begin. I just had to take the first three chapters and set the scene first. Now we can move forward with the storyline itself. Yay! I stuffed a lot of information down your throats in the first three chapters. I gave you the subplot romance, the main story plot about the mission, I gave you information on the CIA, Sandra Moore, her alleged sister, the evil faction, the handsome and dashing Jacob White … and the fact that he is a ticking health bomb. Of **course **he doesn't want anyone getting attached to him; he doesn't plan to live to see eighty years old, so he doesn't **want** love. Also, we now see Carmelita and Sly on the same island and … well, the introduction is now complete. It's time for the story to kick into the next gear!_

Thanks for reading so far! Does anyone have any suggestions? What do you guys think so far?

-kit


	4. Bending The Rules

Chapter -4-  
Bending The Rules

**Carmelita lowered her head, **ducking beneath a branch. She continued on, trying to remain stealthy. It didn't take long before she emerged at the edge of the forested region, overlooking the aircraft carrier again, now from a better angle. She could avoid the lagoon altogether from this side which increased her chances of going undetected.

Carmelita glanced from left to right then broke into a hard dash across the wet sand; her footprints became a beeline towards the front end of the beached carrier. Her ears raised, now perched straight up over her hair. She listened closely; her footfalls rang out as soft slaps against the sand but, to her pleasure, there were no cries of alert or gunshots. Inspector Fox pivoted on her heel then put her back to the hull of the aging ship. …Silence reined supreme.

She began to inch down the hull until she found a crack in the front. Carmelita waded into knee-deep water. She then began to climb the mountain of debris, pulled herself into a broken floor panel inside the ship and froze to listen again. Once inside, she knelt down to catch her breath. Her eyes landed on something glistening on the metallic deck.

A paw was lowered, dabbing her finger in the warm goo. She brought it back to her nose and sniffed. Far from coagulated, the blood sample was fresh and warm. In fact, it still held its deep red coloration at this point. Carmelita rose to her feet and began to make her way down the hallway cautiously.

At the next corner, she stopped, widening her eyes. There, slumped up against the wall and sitting on the ground, was Agent Jacob White. She glanced back behind herself then peered forward, down the hallway, once more. Satisfied they were alone, she asked, "Where's the attacker?"

Jacob looked embarrassed. "I stuffed him into a ventilation shaft; I didn't even realize I'd been shot until I started feeling wet fur. By then, the gunner was already dispatched and hidden; by the book."

"Where?" she asked, reaching into her knapsack for her field kit. She'd need something to help clot the wound; her eyes flitted back and forth between him and the medical kit she now rummaged through.

"I'll be fine," he said with an almost dejected voice. "It's just slowing down the mission; I hate that. I'm lucky though. I took one in the abdomen."

Carmelita cut her gaze back to him. "You're not wearing a vest?" Her glare made him frown. He simply shook his head; in reply her eyes rolled. She then knelt besides the agent and said, "You get what you deserve, _Mister White_. You're supposed to be the trained professional watching after my Sly." Her gaze narrowed and a sharp scowl followed. "I hope you have Cooper in a vest."

"He's in a vest." The Agent's flat reply came as no surprise. "I've got to catch up with him; he's secured a ride out to our destination. Can you just patch me up and send me on my way, _Miss Fox_?"

Carmelita lifted her chin, glaring down her nose at him. She then drew out a thin white package, about six inches in length. She tore the end open with her teeth, pulling out a tampon by its string. Before he could argue, she used her free paw, lifting his shirt, and plugged the bullet wound with the brand-name object. "It's _extra absorbent_ so you don't bleed all over the deck. Now swallow your pride and get your tail up there and help Cooper so he doesn't end up like you… _or worse_."

She unwound a roll of medical tape and wrapped it around his waist adding tremendous pressure to the tampon that she'd wedged into the bloody hole of his abdomen. Tying it off, Carmelita finished the job then pulled his shirt down and offered a pleased expression. "Dios mio, Agent. Your '_profile_' says that you're better than this, no matter how short it is. Now get up and go." She grasped at the man by his left bicep. He struggled to his feet and grunted, rather quick to offer a lopsided smile.

Jacob lifted his right paw, brushing back his short, tousled bangs from his forehead. "It's just starting to hurt now that the adrenaline is wearing off."

She laid her ears at him and said, "Suck it up." Her flat reply seemed to suggest a complete lack of emotion. "I don't want you pulling on that string until you find something better than what I've used."

"I didn't quite notice," said the agent, asking, "What've you patched me up with?"

Carmelita smirked and said, "A _tampon_. Unless you _want_ to leave a trail of blood for everyone to follow." She grinned, seeing his eyes widen. He then replied to her grin with one of his own.

The agent tucked in his shirt. "Aren't you clever?" He paused then exercised a furtive glance about the area. "See you around, Inspector. I hope your investigation goes well, here on this island. Be careful; these mercenaries are _not_ against shooting you."

"And where are _you_ two going?" Carmelita asked, putting her paws on her hips. She kept her voice down, just incase someone was nearby.

Jacob White knew that keeping her alive, without answers was imperative to the success of the mission. He knew if he let her roam the island, she might interrogate the wrong man and find out too much. He also knew that she stood a very good chance of getting shot to death on this island. His only option was to let her tag along to some degree. "Listen," said the agent, turning back to face her.

"Yes?"

White took a long, slow breath then hooked a thumb over his shoulder, away from her. "Come with me. You can make sure we get up to the deck without any trouble since I'm injured. Also, you can keep an eye on your beau; I doubt that any of these mercenary guard jocks have the answers you are looking for. But some of what you're about to see is classified because the dome is currently under a temporary state of political immunity. It's a sensitive situation and having an Interpol investigator on the scene will add political tension on the international community, concerning the litigation issues surrounding this… _cult_."

"What… dome?" Carmelita eyed him carefully then acknowledged him. "I'll go with you to keep you two out of trouble but I've got to report whatever happens."

"Then you're not allowed to come," White said, knowing that it would irk her curiosity. "You do _not _have permission to infiltrate the Atlantis Dome; they have temporary immunity status. You'd be breaking the law. Reporting it would cause you to put Interpol under a microscope from the United Nations. The problem is …the guy who owns Atlantis also owns this Island as a halfway point between the shipping lanes and his underwater operation. It's a goddamn _city_ that no one is supposed to know about."

Carmelita shifted her eyes to study his expression. "What about this museum cargo ship?" she asked. "How does _that_ play into this?"

White knew he had her intrigued. It was time to reel her in, bring her along and go about keeping her in the dark concerning anything that she could possibly attempt to report. "Ownership ties trace back to this cult leader who owns Atlantis. It's all connected. The museum security staff members are mercenaries, trained on this very island. I'm afraid your answers aren't here, regardless of whatever clues led you here. Those bodies did _not_ die on this island, Inspector," said White, shaking his head. "They died breaking into the museum. You can't use any of that information in your chain of evidence, however. It's all classified information garnished by CIA Intel. You're not privileged to that; your job dictates starting here or at that museum and trying to trace your way to the next waypoint by means of clues."

"Shut up," Carmelita replied flatly. "If this dome is immune why is the CIA breaking in?"

Jacob smiled weakly although his acting ability was superb; she believed every word he said… or so he assumed. "If I'm caught, I'm a rogue agent who broke policy. My career ends and the reports of that are so large that Sly Cooper's involvement is casually forgotten. The only thing that would be larger than a CIA agent caught in Atlantis would be news of CIA _and_ Interpol agents getting caught in that dome. The _good_ news is… It's such a large city, we could fit in as citizens and so long as we keep a low profile, don't attract any attention and look as though we fit in, there won't be any problems with their authorities."

"An _entire_ city under water? Are you crazy?" Carmelita just gawked at him, giving his shoulder a shove down the hallway. "Let's go, Agent White. Does Cooper know that you're going to an underwater city?"

"Not exactly," said AJ with a light shrug. "Cooper has no clue to what we've even hired him for. His concern revolves around completing his mission. Part of him probably thinks we're going back to that museum to conduct an investigation but…"

Carmelita finished the sentence, "…it's crawling with local authorities and this Atlantis dome is going straight for the core. So when does the rest of the world find out about this underwater city conspiracy crap?"

Deciding to give her a little truth mixed in with the disinformation, Jacob told her, "We think he's running a cult, stealing artifacts under the belief that it will give him military power. Shutting down his operation means he becomes exposed and maybe some science team will purchase the dome when this whole thing blows over. Then they can use it for underwater exploration and such."

"I think I'm starting to figure this out," Carmelita said, placing a paw at her chin. Jacob glanced over at her, tilting his head a bit. She gave him a slight grin and said, "The reason those five men weren't traced to _anyone_ is because they were thieves working for this cult leader. The note in the one man's boot that had coordinates to this island wasn't meant to be found. They might have even been contracted to steal from his own museum so as to collect insurance; the makings of a conspiracy at work, here. He didn't want those thieves to use any modern gear so that nothing could trace them back to his little secret city."

"Elementary, my dear Carmelita Fox," Jacob said with a pleasant smile. Carmelita took all the disinformation he'd offered and led her as far away from the truth as possible. The fox grinned inwardly at how easy he completed his job. Carmelita had no clue. "Sly is waiting," added the agent, drawing his silenced pistol. "I need to tell you one more thing before we continue and I'll need your complete cooperation in this matter or you're staying put."

Carmelita quickly goaded with the nudge of her elbow. "Go on."

"I have a license to kill; these men are considered cult-driven terrorists and an illegal military group that have already opened fire on _us_ first. So, if I shoot someone or take out some of these soldiers, I don't want you blowing up about it."

"I have the right to use deadly force in self defense," Carmelita replied. "You've been shot; that gives me legal right to return fire if necessary. Your worry is bordering on paranoia. Let's go, agent. I'm not interested in your espionage mission; I'm here to investigate homicide and a theft attempt. Then I go back to France and file my report."

"Your _report_ could…" White found himself immediately cut off.

"Shut up," Carmelita interjected immediately overtop of him. "A report is one to three pages long. I don't explain what flavor gum I was chewing unless it was relevant. If Interpol doesn't know this dome is involved and I wind up there, they'll keep that report confidential; the Interpol spokesperson will neglect that fact to the public paparazzi. As far as you and Cooper are concerned, you have protection; the American Government will disavow your involvement and I'll have egg on my face, looking like a liar. It's not in my mandate to write a report about spies; my job is to write about five dead men and how they tried to steal something from a museum."

A voice came up from behind them, adding, "Yeah and do you think Carmelita's boss wanted to hear about supernatural demigods from her last report?"

"I was suspended anyhow," she snapped, turning to face Cooper. Her expression lightened once her eyes fell upon his face, seeing that he was uninjured. "But you're right, I omitted that from my report since writing about witches and warlocks would have hurt my credibility with my superiors. Even Winthrop doesn't believe me when I said that Karla and Nathanial had strange powers. I wasn't even about to go into Donovan or Sire."

"Did I miss something?" White turned to face Sly. "Aren't you supposed to be securing a ride?"

"You've not missed anything." Sly offered a grin. He drew his arm around Carmelita then added, "The lovely Miss Fox and I have had more adventures than either of us care to explain right now; the CIA wasn't invited to that party. You've got red on you." Sly trailed off with a shrug then pointed at the blood stain on AJ's shirt.

"So it seems." White peered down at the blood stain. "We're taking Carmelita with us; she's agreed not to interfere with our mission, Mister Cooper. I trust you two will compliment one another on a mission together?" White gave him a subtle wink as if to suggest quiet in regards to the mission parameters. "Miss Fox, do we have a temporary international truce between CIA and Interpol then? We can't legally do this, so…"

Carmelita spared no time in her reply. She continued where he left off. "…So to avoid political and international B.S., we're keeping this off the table, between the two agents instead of having our superiors get involved in this 'information armistice' right?"

"I don't know anything about… anything," Sly said. He gave her waist a squeeze with his right arm. "Let's split, you guys. Bentley and Murray are going to create a diversion on the far end of the dome so that we can sneak in through an exhaust register on the opposite end. It's all set up, so let's roll. I got a three-seat mini-sub, out back. We've only got a short window of opportunity to get away undetected, though. Bentley is going to set off a warehouse of depth charges that are stored on the East end. We'll sneak out quick while no one is looking. They plan to use some of those depth charges to make the diversion near the dome, too. Let's rock."

"They're not _stealing_ that ordinance are they?" Carmelita asked, putting on a serious face. Cooper blinked at her but before he could reply she nudged him in the gut. "I'm just kidding. Geeze, Ringtail. Non-military entities aren't supposed to have a stockade of explosives anyhow. It's not like your boys are stealing them; they're just relocating and detonating them harmlessly, right?"

"You've got it," Sly chuckled. "Let's get out of here. I don't want someone to be on to us; we've got to hurry."

* * *

**Agent White took the controls of the attack sub**. Carmelita and Sly sat in the back, side by side. Once clear of the beached aircraft carrier and surrounding chain of islands, Sly relaxed. He removed the Cooper cane from his belt and placed it on the floor. His paw then captured hers with a pleasant smile. She didn't pull her paw away and, after a few moments, relented to the action with a slight smile. Sly could feel her fingers close around his paw; the two remained quiet.

"You're both hiding something." Carmelita glanced away but kept her paw within his. She then frowned; Cooper could see the expression tugging at the corner of her lips.

"It's part of the rules," he said with a sigh. "I'm not here to deceive you, Carmelita. I'm just not allowed to talk about it because you're Interpol; you'd report everything and this mission is being done for their national security or whatever. I'm just here because my experience would help them narrow down what's going on. They made me a good offer, too. Everyone in the gang is offered an honest job if we succeed."

Carmelita's gaze shifted back to him. "And if you don't? Do you stay a thief to make a living?"

Cooper's eyes locked with her own. "I never stole to make a living. I stole to punish thieves, Carmelita. I'll tell you a secret if you keep it between us."

"Go on."

Sly smiled a bit then said, "Part of my mandate is your protection." He noted her reaction; the way she raised her brows and tilted her head. His smile broadened. "If you died during this mission, Interpol would conduct a massive investigation and the CIA would have to pull out. I know a commission spy-job isn't the most honest thing I could have taken but I have my reasons for wanting in on this."

"In return for your protection, what are the rules for me?" She leaned back in the seat, next to him. Jacob was up in the cockpit, out of earshot.

Sly leaned in to nuzzle his nose against the side of her face. His affections were understood and she returned the gesture. "There are no rules, Carmelita; you're not part of the mission. If it was any other Interpol agent, we'd have to keep them alive, as well. The CIA had the name of the Inspector who was going to be assigned to this case and when they told me, I knew I couldn't pass it up; I had to make sure you were safe."

She frowned again then muttered, "Something tells me our missions are related."

Sly knew he couldn't tell her; their missions weren't related, they were on opposite sides. The CIA was going to have him _steal_ an artifact that she was investigating, due to the fact that it was tied in with a five-body homicide. Everything was complex and here they were, back to square one, on opposite sides. This time, however, he was working as a Spy and couldn't _tell_ her that they were on opposite sides. The situation made things awkward for Cooper.

"Say, that ring looks good on ya," Cooper changed the subject. He lifted her paw, admiring the jewelry as if it was the first time he'd ever seen it. Sly lowered his head until his lips met with her knuckles. Tender kisses ensued, trailed across her fingertips.

"Oh, Sly." The vixen closed her eyes with a sigh then said, "Don't betray me; the hurt would be devastating. Tell me you love me."

Sly was calm, placing a kiss with each of the three spoken words; first against her knuckles, then against her nose and, finally, against her lips which caused both to feel the tingle of excitement. The kiss lasted for a moment or so, then in a muffled voice, he told her, "When this all blows over, I'm going to wine and dine you."

"Are you really?" she asked, offering a demure little smile.

"What sort of food are you in the mood for?" asked the raccoon with a brilliant grin.

Furtive Carmelita looked about then whispered, "Room service," against his lips.

* * *

A/N: _whoa nelly! So our heroes are going down to the dome… Carmelita and Sly are together and he's not stolen anything yet. Jacob took a bullet but… he's an expert. Could an expert like that gracefully take a round without having his ego shattered? Is there something more to that gunshot wound than he's leading us to believe? Am I foreshadowing in my author's notes because I'm too lazy to foreshadow or build proper intrigue in the story? Nah, I'm just being silly!_ :D 


	5. Atlantis

A/N: _I do plan on cutting back to finish Reflections Of A New Generation; my (surprisingly popular) fanfic about the son of Fox and Krystal McCloud in the StarFox Fandom. His name is Marcus and… yeah. I've been writing a story about him for ages. Since before StarFox Command was even publicized… I named him Star early on but due to tragedy, the character chooses to change his name to get away from his past; he goes by the name of Krystal's father, Marcus. I'm up to chapter 20 in that story and didn't want to leave everyone hanging because I decided to finish Lament of Carmelita AND do the first five chapters of THIS story as well. No, I'm not taking a break from this story, I'm just not going to be updating it AS much as I was, until I'm back on track!

* * *

_

Chapter -5-  
Atlantis

**Bentley turned about in his chair. **He faced Penelope, Murray and Sasha Moore. The squirrel stood in the doorway for a moment, watching them in return before offering a faint smile. Bentley lifted his right hand and pushed the glasses further up his beak-like nose then tilted his head at her.

"Someone is here to see you," she said to the group.

"We're three hundred leagues below the sea," Bentley argued aloud, not seeing the logic in her statement. "Who in the world could be here to see us?"

A warm masculine voice came from behind the squirrel in the doorway. "Both a foe and a friend from your past." She stepped aside and Panda King came into the room, wearing street clothes and holding a duffle bag with his gear. "I hope I am not too late. The Americans were kind enough to offer me a small part in your commission."

Bentley shrugged a little. "It's not the most lucrative job we've ever taken but they seem to think Sly's abilities are imperative to success."

Panda turned to Sasha Moore and offered the lady a kindly smile before asking, "Could I have a bit of time alone with my friends? I require their audience in privacy."

"As you will," Moore replied, stepping back and closing the door behind herself.

King looked around the control center, taking in his surroundings. There were several monitors on the wall showing Sly's progress; one of them displayed a live feed from a button on AJ White's lapel pin. The Submarine was making incredible progress. King folded his arms, watching for a moment as the group made their way in through the tubes at the back end of the dome. Bentley glanced at Panda then said, "We just dropped depth charges on the opposite side of the dome to give them a diversion. They're moving into position now."

Panda nodded, watching the progress on the monitor. Carmelita passed before AJ's camera; the bear furrowed his brow in slight confusion for a moment then smiled a bit in amusement. Sly followed her and the trio made their way out of the hatch, coming into an abandoned factory. King placed his paw to his chin and softly mused, "They're in a freshwater facility; the dome makes fresh water out of sea water in that plant. I've seen them before… that's how such a place would be laid out."

Murray chimed in with, "So why didja ask the lady to leave?"

King turned from the monitors and cleared his throat to the group. "I have no reason to trust this faction of the American Government. Since being briefed on my ride here, I've learned that five Navy Seals have been executed. I've learned that Sasha Moore's twin sister is on the opposing side. I've learned that Sly is stealing an artifact from an underwater metropolis that shouldn't even exist. But there are two things that don't add up for me."

"We're listening," piped Penelope.

"Number one," said King. "Clockwerk is still at large. My old ally needs must be stopped at all costs. He should have the attention of the Intelligence community and, part of me thinks that he does."

"And two?" the turtle asked.

"And two, I've done some research that may surprise you after having an epiphany during my meditation, three days ago." Panda took a chair between the three others and folded his hands. "The Detective from Prague… He was in charge of interrogating you after the bank collapsed (A/N: _end of Lament Of Carmelita_), do you remember?"

"Yeah," replied both Bentley and Penelope in unison.

King nodded before continuing with his explanation. "I discovered what he seeks to obtain; he is more on our side than any of us realize." He then drew out a scroll of paper from the sleeve of his left wrist. Unfolding it, the printout was displayed to all three gang members. "He is seeking to verify that _this_ stone was not stolen and forged. It is the remaining metal composite from the head of a spear that has a controversial history involving religion and war. But after contacting him personally, I've learned something far more sinister. I knew I had to find you all immediately."

Penelope offered a grin, seeing where he was going with the shorthand history of this situation. "So you got yourself involved to help us, quoting yourself as a Cooper gang thief from the Kaine Island heist?"

"Indeed you are correct," replied King in a firm tone. "The spear has a bit of a legacy. Whether or not it pierced the side of the Lion born of a tigress at the moment of His death upon a cross is not necessarily in question."

"Then what is?" Bentley tilted his head again, scrutinizing Panda King.

"Rumor has it… the spear was fashioned in the Middle East expressly for the intent of combating the power of the Creator in the body of a mortal. Also, it's one of the artifacts required to resurrect the evil spirit that was supposed to be placed into Clockwerk's body." Panda stopped then adjusted his weight in the seat before continuing. "You have reported The Sire to be dead. I believe it. The problem is, in my vision, I saw the spirit of The Sire kneeling before a greater power, answering and atoning for his failure. They said that despite his failure, the remaining artifacts must be uncovered."

Bentley blinked, sitting up a bit and leaning on his elbow over the armrest. "Wait, wait, Sly and Carmelita located three of them and hid'em. They might have destroyed'em at that."

"Some were still located. It gets worse," Panda told them. He shook his head slowly, lowering his gaze a bit. "Clockwerk contacted me in regards to regrouping the Fiendish Five. The other four members, myself included, declined his offer. However, as I was the last on his list and most difficult to find in the meditation temples of China, I did allow myself to partake in a conversation with Clockwerk. He's done more research on this than anyone."

"Go on," Bentley said.

Panda closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "Clockwerk has learned that there are approximately a dozen artifacts. Three were located in Panama by Sly and Carmelita. One of them is in this dome Sly has infiltrated. Many of the artifacts around the globe _were_ recovered, however. The only one that was _missing_ from the rest of the world went forgotten for ages. It appears that the Sire wanted to obtain it for reasons _other_ than the impregnation of his half-feline and half-fox sidekick."

Bentley was quick to put the pieces together. His jaw parted and his eyes widened. The turtle's brows lifted and he leaned forward in the wheelchair. "You mean to tell me that Clockwerk, with his new artificial intelligence, was able to verify that the missing artifact is in the Cooper Vault?"

"Quite so," said King. "It is the pendent of fertility. Not necessarily an item of 'evil', so much as it was a sign of the fertility of the 'dark mother.' I am not a scholar on the Christian mythology or the dynamics of their history but what little I've heard revolves around a woman rumored to be Adam's first Wife."

Bentley turned to his laptop and punched in some words. After a moment, he glanced up from his footnotes and nodded in a confirming manner. "Some say that a woman named Lilith was Adam's first wife. They didn't get along because of their differences and so God made him a new mate fashioned from his own rib so that they were one in the same… soul mates. Lilith went off into the wild, known as Nod. She bore four children and offered them to the creatures of the wild, for adoption. One was given to the Wolf, one to the Owl, one to the Serpent and… I don't remember where the fourth went; doesn't matter."

"I never got into all that sub-culture mythology," Penelope said. "It wasn't preached as normal Christian history so… the whole thing is debatable and then some."

"Absolutely correct," Bentley said, adding, "But the story goes… the Serpent, who watched one of the children, also befriended Lilith who came to visit her children. During one of her visitations, she mentioned to the Serpent why she was alone without her husband. The serpent, named Nagan – or something similar – was quick to want vengeance on behalf of Lilith. It went to the garden and used temptation to trick Eve then… the story goes two different ways from there.  
"Some say it was over an apple that held the power of Original Sin, guilt, power and other knowledge… or whatever. Others say the Apple is a metaphor for forbidden fruit… that the serpent seduced Eve and impregnated her and she had Adam join in the 'partaking of the fruit'… the twins that were born was from the same mother but two different fathers. One was Abel – son of Adam. The other was Cain – son of the devil. Neither knew of their parent's misguided actions that brought about their past but they clashed as Good and Evil often does… Either way, it's all a fairy tale as far as I'm concerned. Science will prove or disprove it all in time. Regardless, that's the story."

Bentley continued, "Carmelita _did_ go through this but that was in an alternative time line which apparently never happened. She would have known, too. Cain supposedly had a line of descendents that avoided the children of Seth. The Cainites fashioned a spear that was rumored to have the power of evil, making the wielder invincible in the face of battle… at a price… and it was ultimately to be used to pierce the mortal flesh of God Born As A Natural Man. The Lion born of the Virgin tigress, Mary."

"This is way over my head," Murray simply said. "Did this stuff really happen?"

"No one will ever know for sure," Penelope replied. "That's why believing in it involves faith. Faith is the pivotal foundation of religion. Rarely can religious things be proven but the stories of the very first events? No, they're all believed with the power of a person's faith. Now, what does this mean for _us_? We had a detective who was trying to track down the rumor of it being stolen and replaced… how does that tie in with the Cooper Gang?"

Panda lifted his paw, running his fingertips through his short headfur. "In my vision, I saw Sly stealing Longinus' Spear of Destiny. I also saw something else."

"We're all ears," Penelope told the bear.

Panda grimaced, looking down. "My dream sounds a bit enchanted but… In my state of meditation, I saw that Sly was forced to wield the Spear, re-forged, to slay the second coming of evil. I couldn't see if it possessed the body of Clockwerk or if it had its own flesh-and-blood body. All I could see was an image of Sly Cooper forcing it into their side. Because the blood and water of the Creator's Son had been spilled upon it two thousand years ago, it was reverse polarized like a magnet. It now injured the evil foe; if this entity manages to take over Clockwerk's body, the spear will not penetrate his metal hull. He'll be invulnerable. Evil wishes to bring the end of the world upon us within the body of a machine."

"Hey!" Murray erupted, "I saw that in a movie called Terminator! And, see, like, it was a machine that helped the good guys fight the machines that eventually bring about judgment day, ya know? Awesome flick, man."

Penelope, Bentley and Panda exchanged glances then all groaned in unison. Murray shrugged, asking, "What? What'd I say?"

"Anyhow," Bentley muttered. "This entire vision could be a metaphor for something completely different. We could be taking this out of context. We're a band of thieves, not Holy Crusaders trying to vanquish all things evil. There's a balance in the world and I'm certainly satisfied with _not_ tipping the scales of justice _or_ the scales of injustice too much in either direction. We steal but only from the deserving. Our first heist was taking cookies and giving them out to the other orphans who lived with us. Even trying to conceive this notion is far too heavy."

"Indeed, I too felt the weight of such a notion." Panda turned his attention back to the monitor which showed Sly, Carmelita and AJ's progress. "Let us hope that these artifacts are nothing more than inspiration for the imagination. We could only _be_ so lucky."

Bentley frowned. "Well, the agent in Washington DC _did_ tell us that this artifact would lead into something that sounded like the plotline of a Dan Brown novel. I usually try to shy away from the thought of angels and demons waging war; it's a metaphor where earthlings try to understand their own inner angels and demons and come up with reasons why things like War exists. I'm not saying I don't believe in the Creator but half-inspired men wrote the big Book portion-by-portion, which probably got lost in the translation. The whole story was changed so that only the morals and the metaphors survived the test of time. Now we'll never know every single detail. If some evil presence tries to fight us over those stupid artifacts, we'll destroy them or hand'em over to the freakin' Pope."

"I'm inclined to agree," said Panda. Penelope nodded in agreement. All four of them turned their attention to the monitors, watching AJ, Carmelita and Sly Cooper…

* * *

Only moments prior…

**The depth charges detonated** on the far end of the dome. The equipment built into the small submarine could pick up the noise but hardly registered the sound. "That's our cue," said Sly, placing his palm on the backrest of Jacob's seat. They waited about two minutes than AJ piloted the sub into a large round pipe on the opposite side of the dome.

After several minutes of navigating the large pipe, the sub broke the surface in some sort of sewage processing facility. An alarm sounded in the background with red flashing lights on the nearest metal pillar. The facility housed a group of large round pools all designed to process seawater into freshwater.

AJ opened the hatch and climbed to the top, looking around at the deserted area. "They must abandon their work if the base comes under attack. I wonder if the people have some sort of shelters they report to. That could be bad if we're spotted in the city streets. Let's check it out, you two. Bentley's done a fine job with those depth charges."

Sly shrugged, pulling himself from the hatch. He turned around and offered a paw to Carmelita and said, "I'm sure it was all three of them. Bentley is a team player and Penelope and Murray are…"

"You know what I mean," AJ interjected with a chuckle. "Don't get defensive, Mister Cooper. We need someone to stay here with the Sub. That way if we get into trouble, the third member will act as the rescue squad. Also, if they find the sub, we'd be out of a ride."

"If someone finds me here," Carmelita trailed off for a moment. The vixen took Sly's paw and stepped out of the hatch, coming onto the flattened top deck that acted as the back of the submarine. "It would turn into a political fiasco for Interpol because I am _not_ authorized to be here. But staying here will attract attention. I suggest we sink the sub at the bottom of this pool and retrieve it when it's time to escape. When are you two planning to act?"

Sly put his paw up. "This is a city, right? And from the outside, it looks like a big city. Not just civilians but military and scientists probably inhabit this place. I suggest we scout the area. Maybe find a hotel or, if they don't have one here, some sort of unused building or we can even scout the sewers. We do what Carmelita suggested and set up a base of operations. Then we can go by night when the lighting is dimmer. At least we'll know Carmelita is really safe and you can get off your feet tonight with that bullet in your gut." Sly turned to face the gentleman fox.

AJ paused to think about it then nodded decisively. "I suppose leaving a person in a submerged mini sub would be difficult. If we were in trouble and she had to surface it quickly, the factory workers might be back at their posts which would inhibit her ability to help us. Very well… This place is an underwater metropolis; we'll find an uninhabited building under construction to secure for the time being."

"I suppose our best bet is," Carmelita trailed off. She turned her gaze from Sly to AJ and shrugged. "If the residents _are_ supposed to be inside of a shelter during attack, we'd better have a damn good excuse if we're spotted. We don't know anything about the culture here; what if everyone is identified by a badge or a marking?"

AJ drew his silenced pistol, gave it a flashy twirl that inspired Sly's awe, if only for a moment, then slipped it back into a concealed holster. "We'll never know anything standing around here." He then jerked his head away from them and said, "C'mon."

AJ slid back into the submarine for a moment; when he returned from the hatch, he was holding a remote control device. "We'll use this to surface the sub; it won't do much else than raise it or sink it by remote control." He placed the remote into his pocket and leapt from the sub to the corrugated catwalk at the edge of the large pool. Obviously he wasn't quite as athletic of a jumper as Sly and Carmelita but neither of them held it against the agent due to his injury.

They joined him with ease and the triumvirate made their way out into the factory. AJ used the remote control to sink the submarine and proceeded to lead the group out through the factory hallways, into the abandoned lobby and out through the main entrance. "Everyone remember where we parked." He gave them a grin and stepped out onto the street.

There, directly before them, was a large office building that looked to be under construction. A sign hung over the main entrance, claiming the building to be off limits due to construction but there were no signs of equipment. AJ paused in the street, just grinning at the building across from the factory. "One of you two brought good Karma to the fold. I assume that this will eventually become the corporate office for the factory we've just come from."

"A corporate office building this big?" asked Carmelita.

"For a water processing facility?" continued Sly.

AJ shrugged. It didn't make sense; but why else put an office building in an industrial district? From the lay out he'd studied back in Washington, the commercial district was at the core of the city. Residential areas were a donut to surround the downtown portion with Industrial complexes at the edge of the city, surrounding the entire metropolis. The large dark blue sky loomed above them; a glass-like shell to protect the city from drowning.

Carmelita hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "Let's find a rear entrance; a building like this would have a loading dock." She headed for a nearby alley and both men followed. There was a metal door on the side and, further to the back, a loading dock for trucks and construction crews. Two rolling doors lined the dock with a small rear entrance in between. She removed her hairpin and approached the door.

"Don't bother," said AJ. "I have the key right here." He smirked at her look of confusion and approached the door. Before either of them could protest, he withdrew the silenced pistol and shot out the lock. The door swung ajar without aid. He opened it for them and replaced the pistol in his jacket.

Carmelita narrowed her eyes. "I can see already that our methods of operation are going to clash." She stepped inside, following Sly Cooper. She glanced over her shoulder and watched as AJ entered behind them, pulling the door shut. She then took a moment to look around, quick to zero in on a sign. "This way," said the vixen, heading down the nearest hallway.

Within minutes the group found the stairs, ascended them, and made claim to completed office sections. There were two office doors in particular, each directly across the hall from the other, on the second floor. Carmelita and Sly claimed the one on the right and AJ took the remaining one on the opposite side of the hall. Before they retired to their temporary accommodations, AJ told the two, "We'll reconvene in ten hours. By then, I'll have the reconnaissance I require and we'll set up our operation. It will give me time to think about what we'll need. I'll be back in an hour with something to eat and possibly air mattresses; there's only two but they're large enough for two to share if you're friendly with one another."

"It sounds as though I'm missing something here." Carmelita folded her arms, leaning back against the wall to the door of an empty office. "Where are you securing the food and air mattresses?"

AJ flashed a smile. "We purposely set up a crate of important supplies, sunk it and scuttled it. Using homing technology, they picked it up and put it into their storage facility. I'll break in, locate the gear crate and shoulder the duffle bags. Then I'll make my way back here. This is a one person job and sneaking is what I'm best at. That's why I'm doing it alone."

"Very well," she said with a firm nod. "Stay out of trouble." To her words, AJ flashed a grin and a wink then turned back towards the stairs and walked away. Carmelita stepped into the empty office and sat down on the floor. "I don't trust him."

"He's a secret agent who kills people," Sly mused. "What's to trust about him? He's doing a job; that's the only reason he won't double cross us. To him, this whole thing is just a day at the office. No pun intended." Sly waved his paws around as if to correlate his pun to the empty office building they now resided in.

Carmelita shrugged. "Still, I don't much care for him beyond the fact that he's easy on the eyes."

"Oh, so ya find him to be pretty hot huh?" Sly grinned impishly, waiting for her to get defensive.

The vixen turned to her fiancé and frowned. "He does my race an injustice with his pompous arrogance and…" Carmelita shook her head. "He's just… Foxes shouldn't be so… I don't find him to be a very good role model for you; whatever, let's talk about something else."

"Fair enough." Sly sat down on the floor and stretched a bit. "He then snatched Carmelita by her pants, pushed his free paw behind both of her knees and caught her collapsing body in his arms. "Hi there."

As quickly as a gunshot, Carmelita's temperament and mood changed. She brushed her nose against his own and simply repeated him. "Hi there," adding, "Lover boy."

* * *

**AJ stopped in the lobby** of the abandoned office building. He changed his clothes again, leaving the top layer on a secretary counter. Now wearing dark gray slacks and a dark gray shirt, he pulled a dark cap out of his gear and pulled it securely to his head, with little cuts in the top for his ears. The weapon with the silencer was re-holstered under his arm and the camera lapel was refastened to his shirt.

"Testing," he said. "This is Agent Jacob White; come back, base; over."

The reply was over a device nestled in his ear. No one else would be able to hear that he was in direct contact with Sasha, Bentley and the rest of the group. "Demolitions eh? The more the merrier," said the fox. "Salutations, Mister King. I hope you have a strong stomach. I'm beginning my run, HQ." He then opened the side door, leading to the alley.

His head lifted, glaring at the dome ceiling high above. After giving it some thought, he decided that the enemy could have a monitoring system secured above; the rooftops were no longer his choice of travel. His head then lowered. AJ spied a manhole cover and a grin touched at the corner of his muzzle. "Eureka."

The fox lifted his right heel and stomped hard on the corner of the manhole cover. The lid slipped from the metallic seating by an inch or two. Clever and witty, the trained agent slid it aside, descended the ladder then pulled the cover back onto the track. He loosened his thumbs but cupped his fingers around the back of the ladder poles; his feet slid off the rungs. With ease, the fox slid all the way to the bottom with his tail flying up against his back from the speed of his drop.

His trained body reacted accordingly; his feet hit the ground and his body dropped away from the ladder in a crouch. While every vulpine creature had the natural gift of increased night vision, AJ White possessed exceptionally uncanny night eyes. His pupils dilated from thin vertical slits to large vertical ovals, taking in every detail around him.

He lowered his right paw, reaching under his shirt to dab a finger at his wound. The blood had dried up since earlier and Carmelita's little makeshift bullet hole plug seemed to be doing the trick. Satisfied that he wouldn't leave a blood trail, the agent tucked in his shirt and reached his paws back up, pulling the cap down over his face.

A furry assassin needed more than just gear to do his job. He needed the right clothes. Inside the skullcap, a special screen-like net was sewn in to stop shedding hairs. He stuffed his tail into a cloth sheath and secured it firmly to his back with large plastic clasps. He knelt down and un-cuffed material at the bottom of his pants, wrapping them around his shoes and tying the fabric down tight then he secured special gloves over his paws. The netting also covered his ears which still stood tall out of his cap, so that he could hear everything.

Now ready for work, he began to sprint down the sewer drain. It was so new and neat that it was like running through a cavern with an underground river. There was no smell, no trash and the sewage water was less than an inch in depth at this part. His footfalls were void of any splashing sound. Even in a full run, he placed the weight on the balls of his feet, so as not to make a single sound.

To his surprise, there were actually guards patrolling the sewers. Because of the elevated level of security, these patrolmen wondered the subterranean sections, using flashlights. Up ahead, AJ could see the growing illumination of just such a soldier coming into an intersection. White leapt into the air and wrapped his paws around a pipe. He pulled himself up, flat to the ceiling and remained silent. Moments later, the patrolman passed beneath the highly trained assassin.

AJ, still holding the pipe in his paws, swung his legs down; he arched his back to get a powerful kick motion. His feet connected with the nape of an otter's neck, dropping the man to the ground. It should have broken the guard's neck but not every attack can be perfectly placed, either. AJ released the pipe and landed upon his adversary. Two jarring clicks of his silenced pistol made quick work of the solder, ensuring his permanent silence.

He then brought the handle of the weapon down hard, like a hammer, and struck the guard's flash light. The bulb either broke or the internal component that touched the battery became disconnected. Either way, the end result was the same… a return to darkness. He then snatched the body up beneath the arms and carried it to a dry grated section, where the blood wouldn't mix with the sewer water. Once properly disposed of, AJ made his way back down the sewer line, utilizing perfect quiet.

He came to a stop, placed his head around a corner then knelt down against a stone wall. "AJ to base; I've dispatched a guard in the dark. Don't be alarmed. How far am I from the warehouse?"

Bentley's voice came over the tiny earpiece. "All we saw on this end was two flashes of light in the dark. You're about one hundred meters west, Sir. Not far now."

"It has a flash suppressor; you shouldn't have seen any flashes." AJ frowned thoughtfully.

Sasha's silvery tones came next. "Not from the gun, from the flashlight; the gunshots were nothing more than two quick clicks."

"Ah, excellent," replied the Reynard. He then bolted off down the tunnel once more. Not too much further up ahead, he came across a hyena facing away from the approaching fox. Just as agent White was about to attack, the hyena began to pivot on his heel, facing back the way he came. The man's eyes widened just as a clothes-lining arm covered his feline-esque snout. The hyena was dispatched with ease; AJ pulled the warm barrel of the silencer away from the man's chin, dropping the body on the concrete.

The agent reached down and took the hyena's right paw. He closed the man's paw into a fist save for two fingers, then used the two fingers to plug the bullet wound so as to keep blood from pooling into the sewage water. He then relocated the body several feet from the shallow trickle that lined the tunnel.

The clever killer began his dash for the warehouse once more. "Location?" he asked aloud. Over his earpiece, Bentley updated his progress, letting him know how close he was getting. Within moments, AJ reached the warehouse from below ground. He then found the nearest manhole ladder and ascended it, removing the cover. A pair of feet was seen directly before him. He reached up from the manhole and wrapped his paws around the ankles.

The guard found himself practically sucked into the manhole he never noticed before until now. When the paramilitary guard struck the concrete at the bottom of the tunnel, AJ leapt from the ladder and pounced his foe. Within seconds, AJ single-handedly broke the man's neck, ending his life. No blood, no clues and no trail to follow; the mark of an expert.

"I'm heading up into the warehouse, for the OSP box." AJ listened for a moment then smiled at the silence. Over his radio earpiece, he could hear Sasha explaining to someone that the abbreviation stood for 'On-Site Procurement of supplies.' He then said, "I'll let you know if I need another depth charge diversion so stay near to the button… or whatever."

The cunning fox made his way back up the ladder and onto street level in an alley behind the main warehouse for supplies. A siren was blaring in the background, calling all citizens to abandon their positions throughout the city. AJ blasted the lock then shimmied the door with his gun muzzle. After a furtive glance about the surrounding area, he dipped inside and pulled the door shut.

* * *

**Bentley turned back to** King and Murray. "Well, he knows what he's doing. Sly will get the artifact and we'll all get out of here in less than twenty-four hours."

"Then we still have Clockwerk," reminded Panda King.

Sasha looked up from the monitors, showing AJ's progress. "Do you mean that stupid metal owl thief from a few years ago?"

Penelope quickly interjected. "Do you mean to tell me that there's something the CIA does _not_ know? Clockwerk will rebuilt just last month; he's at large and he's not going to stay quiet forever."

The squirrel simply shrugged. "Well he's not our mandate; what you decide concerning that one is up to you when your obligation to us has been met." She then gave a polite smile and added, "Sly is cute but I hope he doesn't cross my sister. That bitch is one mean, nasty killer. She puts her pride above both country _and_ family; she's lived this long and it will be tough to take her down. Let's hope she's not called in to protect this artifact."

"Let's hope," Bentley agreed. He turned his head back to the monitor in time to wince, seeing AJ perform a quick death blow in standard illumination. He quickly glanced back away and said, "Is he going for style points or something?"

"Glorious man, isn't he?" Sasha gave them a brilliant grin.

"But," said Penelope; she turned to Bentley, still addressing the squirrel. "I thought you told us that the CIA no longer performs assassinations; yet he's a trained assassin. How does that loophole work?"

"Black operations," Sasha replied. "He doesn't exist. If you went public, we would deny it and you would disappear, mysteriously."

Bentley swallowed hard. "So you're saying that he's not even on the CIA payroll?" To his question, Sasha replied with a nod. He then took his eyes off the squirrel and looked back at Penelope. "A company's subsidiary who owns a side-project business that has ties to a corporate entity with a fair payroll is given money to pay a guy like that. How can the United States operate outside of moral and legal standards like that?"

Sasha shook her head and shrugged. "To ensure national security, a few agents have to be able to do every and anything to get the job done; three _hundred million_ people rely on the safety that their government is supposed to provide."

"I read the constitution," Bentley grumbled. "The government allows its people to bare arms for protection. Municipal laws and local authorities protect citizens. Super secret assassinations aren't necessary; good politicians, hard work and diplomacy is what we require out of any government that we the people would look up to."

Sasha placed a paw on his shoulder and asked, "How does diplomacy or political standing prove to the world that this crazy cult leader stole something that everyone else thinks is sitting in the Vatican? How do we make people realize that it has power and mustn't be in his possession? We can't appease six _billion_ opinionated persons spanning the globe but we _can_ do what it takes to protect three hundred million Americans. Russia does the same. Great Britain, MI-5 and MI-6 do the same. They do what Scotland Yard does not have the authority to accomplish because of loophole regulations. We just… do it the best, the quickest and the cleanest."

The turtle glanced back at the woman then down to the floor. "I know you don't expect us to agree," he said. "But France doesn't…"

Sasha lifted both of her paws. "France _does_. Chirac flip-flops on things sometimes because he's an outspoken, opinionated person. Then his spies give him information and he flip-flops on the previous notions. His government's black operations do their underground jobs then the public perceives him to suddenly act like nothing is going on. Our President is no better but at least they keep their mouth shut until _after_ we've done our job. If no one finds out, no one can question the legal standard because they're too busy being happy-go-lucky in their everyday ordinary lives, surrounded by safety. They don't _have_ to worry about someone nuking them or an insane cult with a ridiculous army suddenly appearing out of nowhere. Why? Because of AJ and Sly Cooper."

"Fair enough," said Bentley. "You've made your point; we're not going to stop you from doing your jobs. But no, I don't think anyone present would agree with this; not that anyone in this room has been legal and honest their entire life but, still."

"There's one difference between what we do and what your television-spy does," Sasha told the group. "We go home and have breakfast in the morning and pretend like nothing ever happened. We go back to the office the next day and hand fifty cents to the street corner guy with the cardboard sign. We go to Wal-Mart and we get a cup of coffee from the corner store. We give directions to the elderly couple who are lost in DC in their Buick Park Avenue. You see, we retain our humanity after the job is done. We don't go stealing another government's secrets or assassinate the leader of the Iraqi resistance. We don't take down Kim Jung Ill, even after he launches a Nuclear warhead test. We only deal with immediate threats to our National Security. We are the secret defense for America's boarders when something brews beyond the Coast Guard's reach."

"Okay, enough," Penelope said, lifting her paws. "Why are you suddenly so defensive, Miss Moore?"

"It's not that I'm defensive," said the woman. "I just want to try and offer you the opportunity to understand so that I don't have to worry if our Commission Team is going to suddenly back out when we need your help."

"We're not going anywhere." Bentley sighed then told her, "I understand, Miss Moore. The United States no longer orders the CIA to operate assassination procedures. They also stripped the CIA of its License to Kill status. So, you tell me what AJ White is doing to those people; they don't even see it coming." He lifted his right hand and pointed at the screen just as AJ took down another guard.

Sasha folded her arms. "Acting as a Splinter agent; we have not granted permission to kill as necessary unless he his provoked. What he is doing right now is simply ensuring that his self defensive status will not be threatened by acting on his own will. Since this mission isn't happening, I can't turn in that video tape or tattle to anyone that he has taken lives. My words would be disavowed. Perhaps this topic should be finished, hmm?"

"That would be best," Penelope replied, folding her own arms. "Oh my God," she added, catching something else on the screen. She turned her head back to Bentley and winced. "Eeep, he's rather brutal."

"Style points," Bentley muttered in return.

Murray shrugged and said, "He's pretty good at what he's doing but it doesn't make things right. He'd do a heck of a lot better by avoiding all those guards the way Sly does. That way no one suspects that an intruder is around and stuff like that. Now, when those dudes don't come back after their shift ends, someone is going to start looking around."

"We took care of that," Sasha chuckled softly. "We planted emails into their computer server that make several guards look as though they were discussing the possibility and merits of doing AWOL. An unauthorized absence status is placed on those men after a short investigation as to why they've up and disappeared. The bodies are hidden in a way that will take several days to locate; we'll be long gone by tomorrow."

"You guys are too much," Penelope said, shaking her head.

"Agreed." Panda shook his head slowly. "Something with this much planning is on the verge of offensive. Let us all hope that our involvement is an act of bringing safety to the rest of the world. At any rate, we'll all be glad when this is over. Then we can get back to taking down Clockwerk for good."

"Wait until Sly finds out he's got one of the artifacts," Bentley muttered. "No wonder Sire hired Doctor M. to try and crack the family vault. No wonder he kept having Clockwerk go after the Cooper family and Sly's parents. No wonder the Coopers kept getting hassled, generation after generation. Someone wanted that pendent so they could bring about apocalypse. The Coopers must have had no idea that they were postponing catastrophe by keeping that piece hidden."

"What are you guys talking about?" Sasha asked.

Bentley frowned, realizing that he'd just gotten carried away in front of the wrong company. He shrugged then said, "We think that whatever Sly is going to steal, along with something in his family vault, and 10 other trinkets… are going to be combined together to usher in Armageddon, somehow. We don't wanna find out if it's all hocus pocus by letting the bad guys succeed. It's long and convoluted."

"Understood." Sasha then turned her gaze back to the monitor. "I wonder what Sly and Carmelita are up to, holed up in that office alone; ah look, AJ secured the supplies from the city warehouse. Excellent. By this time tomorrow night, we'll all be going home."

"I can hardly wait," Bentley said.

* * *

A/N: _Gee, I wonder what Sly and Carmelita ARE up to, holed up in a room alone, so short after becoming engaged. I have a feeling that emotion and affection is somehow involved. Also, we've got to figure out just how they're going to fight Clockwerk. Also, we have to figure out how Clockwerk was reactivated with that Hate Chip; if you remember back to Lament Of Carmelita, when Carmelita and Bentley first arrived back in time, she destroyed the Hate Chip because of her temper. Yet… somehow Clockwerk was activated. _

_Also, we have to learn about what this Spear has to do with the other artifacts and we have to see if someone else is finishing Sire's legacy. How would that affect Clockwerk? Finally, we've got to see what happens to this Cult Leader and his massive underwater army. _

_Like I said, I'm not just going to slow down on this story. I have a lot going on though. Also, I'm moving again on January 6th. Yeah, back to my parents. I can afford it; I'll be able to save up and pay off some debts before striking back out on my own again. Blah! _

_-me_


	6. The Heist

A/N: _I'm less than five thousand words away from having ONE MILLION WORDS archived on FanFiction Net! My NEXT chapter will break the one-million mark. Neat :)

* * *

_

Chapter -6-  
The Heist

**Sly Cooper eased his paws beneath Carmelita's chin** meeting her gaze with his own. Her lips pursed in anticipation and he leaned forward in fulfillment of her desire. His lips pressed to hers; his paws moved with the contours of her face, down to her neck. He slid his fingertips around to the back of her neck, beneath her hair and deepened the kiss with a subtle twist and grind of his mouth. His tongue slid passed her soft, parting tiers. It felt like _home_.

She reached for him, clutching at his shirt, melting into his kiss. His firm and passionate touch rolled over her body. The silken caress he offered was bold and necessary… she swooned. His hot breath against her neck set her heart afire. She leaned up and could feel his cheek against hers, racked with a delicious shiver. The sensation of his hot breath against her neck and collarbone caused the love and need to stir in her heart and bloom in her soul. She felt undone with him.

As often as she questioned her turn of obsession for him, those thoughts now floated on the wind as her mind was full of craving. Carmelita Fox was finally and completely in love. Without warning, a communicator on the floor went off. Sly began to lower her to her back, his weight coming upon her, his arms encircling her waist. It seemed that he was fully content to ignore the call but Carmelita knew it could be something serious.

She lifted her head to break the kiss and gasped as if breaking the surface of a deep pool. The tiny kisses he placed at her jaw, running them down her neck, made her want to forget the communicator, too. Her sense of duty was too strong, however; she reached for the phone.

Flipping it open, she lay there, beneath his tender assault, assailed by pleasure. "What…?" she grumbled into the audio piece.

AJ's voice was clear over the speakerphone. "The sexy stakeout is over, I'm pinned down by snipers and require assistance!"

Normally only one to curse in anger, she quickly hissed, "Shhhhiii…" but before the rest of the vituperative word could be spoken, she quickly changed it to, "…Crap! What's your twenty?" Her inquiry was radio lexicon; a way to ask of the other person's location.

"Use your transponder," AJ replied, adding, "I need to utilize silence; hurry!" He then closed the channel. Carmelita chucked the phone back across the floor, arching her back up against Sly.

"Dammit," groused the vixen. "He just wound up on the list of my absolute least-favorite people. Dammit and I'm all wound up; let's go rescue this joker. Some super-secret agent _he_ turned out to be."

Sly sat up, taking her paw into his. "He might not be spotted, but is unable to get out through a hallway that is well secured; anyhow an amatuer wouldn't have spotted the snipers unless they were lucky enough to have one miss hitting them. Somehow I think the snipers here are less than amateurs, themselves."

"While you're probably right," she began, sitting up with a grunt, "I have this feeling that I'm going to get annoyed every time we have to save him."

"Well the security _is_ a great deal tighter now," Sly reasoned, coming to his feet. He reached for her paws and guided her to a standing position as well then hooked his paw behind her back, dipped her and kissed her one last time. It caused her tail to curl around his ankle. Once she broke free of his teasing, she turned about and picked up the gear duffle.

Carmelita muttered under her breath for a moment. She shouldered the bag then cleared her throat, trying to calm her body. "I don't know how you got involved with this loser but let's make it quick so we can get back to 'winding down' all right?"

"Oh, so _that's_ what you kids are calling it these days?" Sly gave her a playful grin then, just because he wanted to test the waters, swatted her on the backside while she bent over the gear. His grin broadened, seeing that she didn't jump or shout.

Instead, Carmelita stood back up, turned about and shoved the duffle bag into his arms. "Here, _honey_. Carry this for me." She placed her paws on top of the bag, now in his arms, and unzipped it. The good Inspector retrieved a tracking device then zipped the bag shut. She reached a free paw up and patted his cheek then said, "I know you're every bit as keyed up as I am, if not more. You're just a little calmer about stowing all that gusto you've got pent up."

"That I am," Sly replied with a charming smile. "The sooner we finish this job, the sooner you and I can get back to taking down Clockwerk."

"Very good," she said in reply, turning for the door. The vixen flicked her tail at him and began to cross the room, sashaying her hips just enough to tantalize the raccoon. She knew he wanted her. Why else would he be all over her just moments prior.

* * *

**Bentley leaned back in his chair, tapping his chin **with the stylus of his digital organizer. He'd opened up a notepad application and began scrolling through the old notes to find the blank template when his eyes spotted something on the list he'd not remembered from the past. 

It was a note to himself from himself. He quirked a brow then opened the note file and read it.

The message ended, leaving a date and time three days in the future. Bentley reread the message twice then passed shook his head slowly in disbelief. "I've got to head back to Paris; an emergency has come up. It's too complicated to explain right now. Just know that there is one small loophole we never cleared up, concerning Clockwerk, the HateChip and our trip to the past to save the team. It could have a serious effect on Sly and Carmelita's safety."

"I don't understand," said Murray, looking up from where he was sitting on the floor. King and Penelope turned to the tortoise, confusion in their eyes.

"It's pretty convoluted but it has to do with Clockwerk. Murray, come with me," said Bentley, adding, "Penelope, you're the brains and Panda, you're the demolitions man, just incase. This is a serious emergency; I don't have time to explain. Just know it pertains to a loophole in the time travel, a month and a half ago."

"All right, you know what you're doing," said Penelope, affording him a kiss on the side of his face. "Be safe."

"You've got it," Bentley replied. He turned to Murray then wheeled away from the set of monitors that showed everything on AJ's lapel. "Murray, let's go talk to Miss Moore and take a sub back to the mainland. We'll take the first flight back to Paris. I'll need your help in doing this, pal."

"Right!" exclaimed Murray. "You can count on me!" Things were about to get weird, Penelope knew that much. But whatever had Bentley in such a state of hurry was alarming by all means. He _never_ ran off without an explanation like this.

* * *

**Sly and Carmelita dashed through the streets** until the transponder claimed they should have been standing right next to Agent White. They stopped at the edge of an empty alley and glanced around in confusion. Sly snapped his fingers then pointed to a manhole cover. 

Carmelita nodded in confirmation then knelt down to work on the metal top. It wouldn't budge. She stood back up, snatched the cane off of Cooper's belt then used it like a crowbar, prying the cover from the street. Sly hopped down into the hole but she paused. Once Sly signaled that it was all clear, she made her way down the ladder.

AJ knelt in a corner, just a few feet from the ladder, in the sewer. His fur dripped with perspiration and his eyes held a look of intense pain. His gaze flitted up to the approaching vixen that knelt besides him. He drew in a slow, full breath. "It's no secret to the agency; I do what I do because I have a short-fuse on my biological clock."

"Pardon?" Carmelita tilted her head at him, reaching her paw under his muzzle to inspect him for any signs of new injury or head trauma.

He continued in a soft voice. "I'm dying from an unknown disease. It's a little different from Lou Gehrig's disease; something more akin to Cancer but I can't have it removed from my brain or I would die."

Carmelita's jaw dropped. "They sent us in here with a dying agent?"

AJ shrugged. "I was diagnosed to die a year and a half ago. It never happened. I volunteered to do a suicide mission and survived. Then I took _another_ suicide mission and it was an incredible success. A few months later, I was sent in to rescue Sasha Moore with a probability for success of ten percent. We both made it back. By then, the agency simply forgot I was going to die; they began assigning me the impossible missions. They felt my experience would ensure that Sly made it through _this_ mission but, when I entered the aircraft carrier, I had an incredible sensation of pain in my head."

Carmelita blinked, knowing where this was going. "You were spotted during your short blackout and it got you shot. Your pain somehow triggered a pause to the sensations in your head; you came to your senses and dispatched the enemy. Then I came along."

"You're very astute." AJ gave her a bit of a smile. "I thought to bring you along incase it happened again. Then I got cocky and… it happened again. I crumbled to my knees in pain. I rolled onto my side in a fetal position then the first wave ended. While lying there in my temporary state of repose, I noticed the glint of a scope in an intersecting sewer passage from my prone position. I then realized I'm lucky to have collapsed, else I'd have been picked off. Now I'm pinned down. I called you guys only for the second wave of pain to hit, it ended just as you two found me."

Carmelita shook her head then turned to Sly. He gave her a shrug, leaving her to shrug back at him. She flipped open the communicator and said, "Bentley, we have a small problem."

The replying voice belonged to Sasha. "Bentley and Murray are returning to Paris. They claim that they have to make an emergency trip to Bentley's lab in order to guarantee the success of this operation. I don't quite understand it but, I let them go because God knows, success is paramount."

"Are… you kidding?" Carmelita turned to Sly and AJ then said, "Bentley and Murray left for Paris. They seem to think something at Bentley's lab will ensure success."

"Also," came the female voice over Carmelita's earpiece. "Another Cooper Gang member has joined: Panda King."

Carmelita just gawked. "This is turning into a nightmare. More crooks, less answers. This operation is turning into a circus. We've got to pull out and regroup."

"There is no time," said AJ. "We have to finish what we've started. We're already here. It's almost over. We've got to finish."

"What are we here to do?" she asked.

"Listen," said AJ. "This cult leader is running the show. The CIA has run a background on this dude… nothing turned up. No social, no local authority files, no FBI files; we checked the PATRIOT files, Interpol, you name it. This guy doesn't even exist. All of a sudden, he's set up shop underwater one day and he has control over _three hundred thousand _troops, several dozen scientists and an underwater city. It doesn't just happen over the course of a night, a week or even a year."

AJ paused, leaning his head back against the gloomy concrete sewer walls. Another slow sigh then he shrugged. "He has _no_ ties to America or even the Middle East. I don't know where he's getting his funding but if it was from an American or one of America's enemies, such as the Middle East or North Korea, we'd have Patriot files; no this guy turned up _nothing_. He didn't exist until very recently. He managed to steal and replace a powerful and ancient artifact and he got away with it. This artifact may or may _not_ grant him some sort of power but the success of his underwater empire is obvious. Go ahead and write a report," AJ said to the Inspector. "You're not authorized to be here; this guy has secured temporary United Nations sanctuary; using a UN Loophole to be provided with immunity until they can ascertain if he's a country or …what the hell he is."

"This is a lot to digest," Carmelita said. "We know for sure this guy stole an artifact?"

AJ nodded. "But he's immune for ninety days. By then, he'll be in a position to wage war on multiple fronts. We believe he's using spent nuclear rods to fuel this dome to make weapons. We're not allowed to go after this artifact until the immunity concludes."

Carmelita eyed the man for a moment. "So, until we see this artifact in person, it's just a CIA hunch."

"A hunch large enough to set up an espionage operation," said AJ in a scolding voice. "This guy is serious. And if we can prove what he's stolen is the real thing, then the immunity clause would end, granting us permission to hit him with nuclear sanctions and everything else we deem necessary to guarantee the safety of civility."

"But you're not sure until you have the artifact?" Carmelita inquired.

"Correct." AJ nodded then told her, "I'm here to gain information that might help me prove or disprove this artifact is legit. Sly, as a Master Thief, is here to shed his experience into this mission. Anything we learn his crucial. _ANYTHING _from information about their nuclear capabilities to information on this artifact and its alleged theft… There is a European cop trying to follow this case in his own way and it's gotten him _nowhere_."

"Yeah," Sly interjected. "He was interrogating Bentley, Penelope and Murray. Panda King rescued them; long story. It was about a month ago that this happened."

"Interesting," Carmelita mused. "So your mission, here, is to get in close, do some spying and maybe have Cooper sneak in close to plant a few bugs and perform some recon. Then, when you find out what you need, you send in a covert operation force."

"Something like that," AJ replied. He knew he couldn't tell her about the Seals or their failure because her mission was to find out about their deaths and report everything. "I have a job for Sly, tonight. I've got to be in a position to cover him to ensure his safety. You're not part of this mission; you're here to guarantee that you're not injured. Anything that happens to you brings more Interpol. It gets sticky after that."

"Fine," Carmelita said. "I'll be a good girl and sit tight. Now let's get you out of here."

* * *

…three hours later…

"**How do I look?**" Sly asked. He was decked out in a high-tech CIA sneaking suit, designed for stealth against various forms of radar and most modern forms of tracking equipment. It was tight to his body and accentuated his masculine, athletic curvature. Little bumps covered his tummy, showing the toned definition of his abs as well as the athletic physique of his chest and thighs. Carmelita gave him a look of appreciation then smiled.

She grinned wider then cleared her throat. "Hot. But if you repeat that, I'll deny it."

He grinned in reply then frowned thoughtfully. "It's not as flexible as a pair of sweats and a cotton shirt." He then leaned forward and kissed her. "I'll not be long. I've got to bug this building in the downtown area. It's a museum, where the artifact is being kept. Then we're done and can head home."

"No," Carmelita told him. "_We_ aren't finished anything after this. I still have five dead bodies to Inspect. I'm going to the mainland after this, so I can finish doing my job."

"Mind if I stick around for it?" Sly asked. "Like the good ole' times: Inspector Fox and Constable Cooper."

Carmelita's expression melted into a soft smile. "I'll think it over. Now go do whatever it is they're paying you to do so we can get the hell out of here. This underwater city crap is giving me the creeps."

"All right," Sly replied with another kiss. He then left the office to meet AJ in the adjoining room. Carmelita sat down on the floor, closed her eyes, and began to whisper a prayer. She wasn't the praying type but she also didn't want Cooper out there stealing anything and her instincts said that he probably would. She wanted to prove to herself that he was being honest to her but she also wanted to simply put her trust and faith in him. That would be a great deal easier if she could see him _not_ stealing… just once.

For now, she had to sit there, restless.

* * *

**Carmelita's curiosity got the best of her**. A full hour passed and she worked up the nerve to investigate their 'operation' to see what was going on. The vixen made her way to the streets and was surprised to see people milling about as if it was a typical city. At first she was horrified but when no one seemed to pay any attention to her, she decided that no one cared. 

'_It's impossible for several hundred thousand people to memorize _every_ single face in the city; I should be safe,' _she thought to herself. Carmelita began a brisk jog towards the downtown area. It's something she did most mornings, anyhow and she looked natural, running down the sidewalk. To her amazement, electric automobiles zipped by and bicycles came and went. Other pedestrians came and went, lending to the "normal" city atmosphere.

Downtown wasn't hard to find. Large buildings reached to the sky at the center of the dome. Carmelita's jog took her ten blocks before the scenery changed to a residential zone. There were temples and churches for religious worship, small fast food delivery stores and she even passed a local bank. The first thing she noticed about the apartment buildings, townhouses and duplex buildings was the fact that none of them had mailboxes.

She continued to run through the underwater city, partially admiring the infrastructure of their society. There were trees on the corners and grass in some front yards. If it wasn't for the deep blue sky and powerful lights on the dome ceiling, she wouldn't have recognized it against any other major city. Due to electric automobiles, there was a complete lack of gas stations, also. She didn't notice a post office, but did pass two fire departments and a police station.

"This is something out of the twilight zone," she huffed under her breath. "Not far now." The looming sky scrapers towered in the sky up ahead. Somewhere, downtown, was a museum and that was her destination.

She began to pass cafés, motif bistros and even grocery stores. Up ahead, her sharp eyes landed on a landmark sign. "Arena, Museum, Central Park ahead; Observation tower – first right." Carmelita kept straight, crossing a major intersection which was surprisingly busy with electric automobile traffic. A trolley passed by her as she crossed over the crosswalk.

Carmelita approached the Museum from the rear entrance, near the loading dock. A small door leading down below the building was wide open and unattended. She made her move without hesitation and went for the stairs, leading beneath the museum. The room opened up into a large storage warehouse. With frightfully low crime, there were obviously no worries about leaving a door to the basement wide open.

Another door at the end of the room became her next destination. Carmelita opened it slowly and peered through it. She now stood upon a catwalk, looking over the side into a larger subsection, far below. Her eyes widened and she knelt down, staying still. Secured to the floor by double-braced chains, the massive Clockwerk was held prisoner. She wasn't sure how in the hell they got something as large as Clockwerk into this dome, let alone the subbasement of this museum… but it was undeniably him, chained to the floor.

The gigantic metal bird resembled Gulliver, surrounded by little worker men and chained to the floor by more chains than she could count at such a distance. Another, smaller metallic body was chained to a wall at the far end of the room. It was a biped Cyborg avian body and appeared to be deactivated. The secondary body was no larger then the next average man in height and build.

Bundled fiber-optic cables ran from Clockwerk's head to a machine on a pushcart. More cables ran from the cart to the head of the small avian cyborg body. _'Definitely something out of the Twilight Zone,'_ she thought to herself. The dynamics of this mission changed; the parameters were now different. These people were harboring a known fugitive in a mechanical body. Clockwerk was no longer a wanted criminal; he was an illegally operating war machine that had to be stopped. And yet here he was; his massive body chained down by several hundred double-braced chains. Each link was as large as her torso, like the anchor chains used on Navel battleships.

Now that Carmelita was beginning to regain her senses and the shock was wearing off, she scanned the area around her. The catwalk wrapped around the upper section of this subbasement, with a door on each side. Three stories below, Clockwerk was flat upon his belly, chained to the ground. Carmelita watched the men, far below, milling about behemoth Gulliver, checking and double checking each brace and chain link for security. Every so often, Clockwerk would struggle against the restraints, testing their strength.

A man's booming voice could be heard, far below. She had to strain to hear him from this height but her sharp fox ears were able to make out his words; they were spoken in proper English, sounding as through the speaker was from Great Britain. "It won't be long now! I've recovered many of the artifacts necessary, Clockwerk. I'll be transferring your consciousness into the hard drives onboard this cyborg body. Don't worry, it won't be _too_ bad. I've even taken the liberty of having your new body designed to support your HateChip. Please understand, this was never your body to begin with. It's a shame Sire isn't here to finish the process himself… but he is a martyr for our cause."

"I killed him!" Clockwerk roared in anger. "And you're next, little man! I will crush your body in my beak until I hear two hundred bones break. I'll leave you three in each ear so that you may hear your own screams. Then I shall crush your torso into paste!"

The man replied with a hearty laugh. "Ah, if it weren't for Sire and his abilities, this Dome wouldn't be here but neither would you! Your new body won't be large enough to bite anything more than a few of my fingers, Clockwerk! You're lucky I'm allowing you to live. When you've calmed down, I'll give you the choice to join my side. Your alternative is to become a practice adversary for the owner of your current body!"

"These chains can't hold me forever!" Clockwerk bellowed.

Carmelita began to move quietly along the catwalk to the next nearest door. She had to find her way to Sly and AJ and tell them what was going on. The next door led to stairs that headed up into the heart of the museum. She shut the door behind herself then sprinted up the concrete steps.

At the top, she opened a metal gate and stepped through. Directly in front of her was an unconscious guard on the floor. She looked the body over and found a familiar green dart on the man's neck. The brawny brute, a rhino, was sleeping quietly with his face down on the ground. Carmelita caught something out of the corner of her eye, dashing by up in the rafters.

She sprinted out into the middle of the room, leapt up on top of a Plexiglas display case then jumped again, catching a rafter beam with her paws. She pulled herself up into the high beams and began to balance-walk her way towards a doorway at the far end. It was a strange place for a maintenance door but she didn't argue. She had a feeling it was Sly up ahead.

The door was closed and she pulled it open, stepping through. Now, in the section large section of the museum, she found herself above several rows of neatly organized museum exhibits. She glanced up, noting that this section of the ceiling was designed in the shape of a large rotunda. She continued down the length of the rafter beam and into the next section.

In the west wing, the main exhibit was bathed in rich incandescence. She walked out on the beam several feet then glanced down and narrowed her eyes. Sly Cooper stood at the center of the room with four guards on the floor. He was suspended from a cable out in the center, hanging several inches above the artifact on display. Her heart began to sink and, for the moment, even thoughts of Clockwerk were forgotten.

She watched as he carefully lifted the glass case and wrapped his gloved paws around a strange looking stone with a point. With his free paw, he replaced the glass overtop of a Sly Cooper business card. He then gave a tug on the cable and began to ascend into the rafters by method of a mechanical winder. He held the artifact in his right paw, hugging it to his chest.

Her paws clinched into fists and yet she wasn't mad… her initial sensation was one of disappointment. Her heart sank further into her chest and resentment followed, remaindering her that she'd been lied to and that he broke his promise to her. Her stomach turned and her face went numb. Her eyes stung, in an attempt to hold back tears. She sank to her knees, watching as he unlatched himself from the rafter bar. AJ was in the rooftop section as well and the two even looked chummy, chuckling and smiling about their success. They never even noticed her in the far corner section.

She'd caught him red-handed and the severity of his crime stung her heart. The affliction was a wound to her pride, her soul and her ability to trust. The two made a fancy escape at the opposite end… Carmelita covered her face with her paws, lowered her head to her knees and wept. Tears matted the fur of her paws and the echo of soft sobs reverberated throughout the now-empty chamber.

Carmelita Fox was devastated. She felt as though she'd been played for a fool. She'd be the laughing stock of Interpol… a top cop agent in love with a hardened criminal. He manipulated her and now her heart was broken. It was an important lesson but it stung like fire. She wrapped her tail around herself, sobbing in loss and in embarrassment. She felt humiliated.

Everything he'd fed to her was a lie. She opened up to him and showed him a special and private part of her world… and he betrayed it. She handed her heart to him and with this single act, he handed it back and, as far as she was concerned, he practically laughed in her face. His betrayal was the one unforgivable sin. It encompassed every method of hurt he could have afflicted upon her… lies, deceit, manipulation, betrayal and worst of all, he broke a vow to her.

She felt empty and hollow. A part of her died inside. She felt deceived and used. She suddenly felt dirty and as raw as a wound with a thick coating of salt. She choked on her sobs, trying to keep her voice at a tolerable level, so as not to attract nasty people with large guns. There she knelt, doubled over on a rafter beam, in a museum in some God-forsaken underwater _hell_.

She was still to hurt to even consider vengeance; the thought of taking the sub and leaving both White and Cooper here, alone, was still minutes away from crossing her mind. For now, she was wracked with intense pain; an emotional hurt that felt every bit as real as the gunshot wound she'd survived, a month and a half ago.

It wasn't that he stole; it was that he lied about it, deceived her, betrayed her trust and denied it vehemently. As far as she was concerned, the relationship was _over_. As soon as they got out of this dome, she was going to arrest him and take the thief to jail. She simply could _not_ believe that she'd been such a sucker; she was quick to blame herself, almost immediately calling herself an unprofessional fool. How gullible was she? She couldn't be sure.

* * *

A/N: _Finally, we got Cooper to steal the thing that made Carmelita want to break up with him so we can finally START THE STORY! I mean, I didn't want to START right here, because no one would KNOW what's going on... but ... when I came up with the concept for this story, I started with Sly and Carmelita going through a break up because she somehow catches him stealing this artifact of major significance. Then, calling the Story SPY COOPER because I was going to have him go BACK and break into the CIA and other agencies, to get information on the rest of the artifacts that need to be acquired to raise the devil so that the bad guys can put him into Clockwerk's body. Sly wants to find'em first and stop CHAOS from happening. In order to find'em all in time, he'll have to break into the world's hottest and tightest Intelligence agencies and STEAL the information. _

_As Bentley assuredly already knows, today's crook knows that stealing INFORMATION is the hardest and most powerful... and most lucrative thing that a thief can possibly steal. It's up to Sly, Bentley and the whole gang. There is going to be a whole lot of guns, explosions and a very ANGRY Carmelita hot on his trail. _

So...

_A LOT going on here. I debated on posting this chapter AFTER Christmas, because it was so depressing but… I mean, c'mon, it's just a story and you KNOW how I am… you know they'll probably make up at the end, even if they don't get married on the last page, they'll at LEAST reconcile to the point where she's willing to give him another chance if he promises to 'this or that'. Or something. _

_Anyhow, I wrote out this 3 page thing about what Bentley's note to himself from the future said… then I decided it would be more mysterious to delete the whole thing and just show you guys, later. _

_BUT I'll give you a HINT. I'll TELL you what the Loophole is… _

_If you re-read Lament of Carmelita (and it's a LONG story. It's over 250 full 8.5 x 11 sheets (inches standard) and that's a lot of re-reading!) then you might have noticed that, when Carmelita and Bentley go back in time one week, the FIRST THING CARMELITA DOES is destroy the Hate Chip, outside of the Prague Bank! _

_Then, way later, when Bentley grabs the chip and plugs it into Clockwerk, it reverts the bad guy to his former role of Hateful Evil Badguy person. Well, how in the hell is THAT possible when the HateChip should have been DESTROYED? _

_I'll tell you! …In the next chapter! LOL_

_No, I do NOT have any plans for my old bad guys to reprise their old roles. They're dead:) _

_However, Clockwerk will be a little more prominent in this story. As far as Atlantis, the heist is over. Everyone is leaving and heading back to Paris but Carmelita still has a job to do; she has to go back to the island and do an investigation on the homicide quints. We'll also find out just how those five Seals died soon and then get into the intrigue, the espionage, have Sly, Bentley and the gang break into an American Government facility to get records to help them find the rest of the artifacts before anyone else does… and of course, we'll see Sly try to romance Carmelita back into his arms. And she'll chase him the entire time, following him through his next several heists… doing what some consider impossible… _

…_Breaking into America's toughest air-tight places… Langley's CIA and DC's FBI buildings. _

_Oh, and I hope no one is attached to AJ… his disease is advancing quickly. Nah, he's not such a bad guy… He just likes to remain detached because he knows he won't live too much longer. Especially now that he's having those migraine spikes. _

_However, I may add more of Sasha and her sister in this story. Also, I've considered having Sly break into the Russian Intelligence headquarters but I don't know enough about it to try and … well, if I decide to do so, I'll do what I best and imagine it but… yeah. _

_Also, I'm going through a move on January 8th. I figure it's far more affordable; I'm broke as a joke right now; I can't afford to pay attention and it sucks! _

_All right, catch ya later! Merry Christmas! Tomorrow is Christmas Eve! Wee! _


	7. The Information Age

Chapter -7-  
The Information Age

**The main exhibit room was silent.** Carmelita clinched her fists tightly, trying to calm herself. Between sour sobs and offbeat hiccups, she dried her eyes with the backside of her forearm. She knew she couldn't jump to conclusions. Where the American Government was involved, Cooper might have been bound to his mission by orders with a Classified Status. The problem was, if he couldn't trust her with something as small as a secret, how could she trust him with something as large as her heart?

The other possibility was that Cooper never changed and he was still a low-down thieving lecherous flirt. She lowered her eyes to the ring on her left paw. Part of her wanted to chuck it off the side of the rafter beam; the other part of her wanted answers first. Her heart was pounding, stricken with grief.

"Up there!" someone shouted. She glanced down at the floor through moistened eyes. Before she could react, two submachine guns flashed to life, pelting the rafters with a volley of bullets. Carmelita lost her balance on the beam; it slid out from beneath her and she began to fall. Would Sly Cooper be there, once again, to rescue her?

Something broke her fall, crumbling beneath her. It _wasn't_ Sly. A tall cardboard obelisk slowed her descent only for a replica of the Sphinx to catch the rest of her. It crumpled like an accordion but by the time she came to a stop on the floor, she was gasping for air. She was lying besides one of the unconscious guards that Sly or AJ had dispatched. Her eyes opened, staring up at _three_ MP5 light submachine guns; the third guard approaching from the North side.

Her ears flickered at the sharp sound of three gunshots. The triumvirate of guards collapsed to the ground, lying on all sides of Carmelita Fox. All three of them were dead. A female squirrel approached Carmelita with her handgun drawn. She knelt down and rolled the vixen onto her side then placed her knee against Carmelita's chest. She holstered her gun and reached down, taking Carmelita's arms and lifting them both above her head. "Calmly try to draw in breath. Then, I'll stand you up; keep your arms raised above your head and take a second calm breath."

Carmelita did as instructed, struggling to draw in that first breath. A few seconds passed but the inability to breath made it feel like a lifetime. Once she struggled to draw in the first fresh breath of oxygen, the woman helped Carmelita to her feet. She kept her arms raised as instructed then drew in a second full breath.

She cleared her throat then, in a German dialect, she spoke proper French. "The spasm between your diaphragm and the muscles and nerves in your solar plexus makes it difficult to regulate normal breathing. When your medulla oblongata can't do its job of automating your breathing control, your instincts kick in, leaving you to gasp; flailing around like a fish out of water. Stay calm and focused, Inspector. You were lucky to land on this exhibit model. Hold that second breath for a moment; the oxygen will do its job of calming the cramped, spasmodic muscle. Count to ten, exhale and take another breath."

Once Carmelita's breathing returned to normal, she turned to face the woman and asked, "Who are you?"

"Christ sake, young lady, you've been crying," said the woman. "Most people call me Baroness but… I suppose you can just call me Cleo. Your beau and his cohort, Jacob White, have just made off with the remains of the Spearhead. The good news is, it is no longer in the paws of the lunatic who owns New Atlantis. The bad news is that the Americans will return it to the Vatican, where it will remain on public display; it needs to be in a vault. The temptation of man is too hungry for power, to leave such an item just lying around." The squirrel reached for Carmelita's wrists, forcing them back to the vixen's side.

"How did you know I'm in Inspector?" Carmelita asked.

"Listen to me, little girl," said Cleopatra Moore, "You know how Interpol and the FBI are the power players in International Law Enforcement? Well compared to the Secret Agents on today's playing field, you're a small-time pawn with little more than the power to _shut up and stop asking questions_." She gave Carmelita a pleasant pat on the shoulders and smiled. "Good as new, Top Cop. Come with me; there will be more guards. How's your marksmanship?"

"Second to none," Carmelita replied, trying hard to put aside the sensation of hurt still aching deep in her chest, if only for a few moments. "How did…?" Carmelita was suddenly cut off by a dismissing wave of the woman's paw.

"Second to none is still second to _me_," Cleo replied. "I'm a showman sharpshooter. You might call me a marksman but that would imply that I mark an object; the truth is I shoot before I think. There's no time to mark a moving object. You guess, you lead, you fire, and you _win_. Still, I guess I can trust you with a gun." She passed Carmelita a Three Fifty-Seven chrome magnum. "I prefer the forty-five, so you can have this."

Fox nodded and took the weapon, checking the magazine; it was longer than the butt of the gun, holding fifteen rounds. "Th-thanks; let's move _then_ you can tell me why you're helping me."

"_Now_ you're getting the idea," replied the squirrel. "Stick and move, these guards have families and are honest workers but they're actually squads of paramilitary in training. If you let'em live, they'll put a hole in your back before you can get through the exit. Don't think of them as lives; they're enemies. They're flesh-and-blood killing machines and dispatching them saves an innocent life somewhere in the near future. Don't hesitate or I'll leave you here. Interpol's involuntary involvement doesn't disrupt my mandate, let's go."

Carmelita quirked a brow then frowned. "Then _why_ the heck are you helping me?" She gazed down the sights of the weapon. Satisfied that the .357 Falcon was a good weapon, she fell into step behind Cleo.

"Shoot first, questions later," replied the enigmatic woman. The Inspector's face-fault caused Cleopatra to smirk. She lifted the handgun and skillfully shot out two anchoring chains that held part of the catwalk up in the ceiling, opposite from the rafter beams Carmelita came from. Two shots took out two chains and one end of the catwalk crashed to the floor.

Sasha's sister jerked her head towards it, "That's our boarding ramp, Inspector." She broke into a sprint with Carmelita following. The two Femme Fatales made their way up the steep ramp and took the door leading back the way Inspector Fox came in. In the next exhibit hall – the rotunda shaped section – Cleo turned in the direction opposite from where Clockwerk was sighted. Carmelita followed without question.

"I bet there's a catch to this," Carmelita huffed as the two ran through the corrugated maintenance section up in the ceiling.

"Shut up and run," Cleo scolded. Her no-nonsense attitude translated well in the field. Carmelita could relate to it, Cleo knew that much. She led the vixen into a concrete hallway; at the end, a metal door waited with two locks and a chrome handle. The hinges were on their side of the door. The squirrel shot both of them out then kicked the door at the center. She quickly stepped back, shoving Carmelita back a foot or two.

The door began to swing ajar in reverse, the section with the hinges coming away from the door frame. Then, without the support of its hinges, the entire door wobbled a bit and ultimately collapsed face down on the ground. Without missing a beat, Cleo darted off, through the empty doorway.

Cleo holstered her weapon and dashed across the promenade. They now stood in the mezzanine of a subway station. Metro cars, down on the tracks, came to a stop for passengers to board. "We can't get on with guns but we can't ditch them just yet. Stow that sidearm on the esplanade, Fox."

Carmelita did as she was told, hiding the gun in her waistband.

"How's your balance?" Cleo called back as the two sprinted through the public walkway.

"I can keep up with Cooper on the run," she replied.

The squirrel smirked, shaking her head as they continued to run through the area. She then said, "Don't fall behind!" and leapt off the balcony. Carmelita skidded to a halt at the banister rail and watched as Cleo landed on a catwalk above the tramline. Carmelita shook her head, narrowing her eyes; the lady was good but flirted with danger. The vixen backed up a few steps then sprinted forward and hurdled over the promenade railing.

The Inspector landed on all fours, tearing off along the metal walkway directly above the train. "Hurry!" shouted the woman up ahead. Carmelita grumbled to herself, coming to her feet in a full run. Beneath them, the train began to pull forward, heading into the tunnel up ahead of them. Carmelita strained, running as fast as she was able. Up ahead, the squirrel shouted, "Schnell!"

Carmelita didn't know German beyond a few words and phrases but she knew that 'schnell' meant '_fast_' or even '_quick!_'. The catwalk became invariably difficult to see the further they went into the tunnel. The train was picking up speed beneath them… when suddenly Carmelita began to fall.

The catwalk ended and Carmelita flailed about helpless against gravity. Her body connected with the moving train; the Kinetic energy from the train's mass transferred back into Carmelita's body. She rolled hard, sprawling out, sliding down the roof of the train. Freefall happened again but it was short lived. Carmelita fell between cars, landing on the metal platform between tramcars. Her hip ached from having landed on her gun; her eyes clinched from the pain.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," Carmelita moaned.

"They're not going to help you," said Cleo from above. She leapt down onto the platform, next to Carmelita then added, "Unless you get that artifact back from your boyfriend. Yeah, it's like that."

"You've got to be kidding me." Carmelita looked up at the woman whose visible face glowed in the illumination of the passenger car; the doors that led into each car had a small square window incandescent from the light within.

"If the rest of Interpol finds out…" Cleo trailed off for a moment then smirked. "I don't want to pull out of this operation prematurely just because a bunch of World Police come to rescue their agent. When we get back, I'll give you a choice… You can work with me or you can rescue yourself. There are benefits to both choices."

"Such as?" asked Carmelita.

The woman shrugged. "If you work with me, I'll help you build evidence to prove that those dead men were Americans working for the Department of the USN. It's not in _my_ mandate to cover up _their_ blunder. Now, I've given you a single clue. You can take it and walk so long as you don't call any more cops into this. If you squeal for Interpol to swarm in and give you backup, AJ and I will race to find you. We'll knock you out cold and express mail you back to Paris. Do you follow?"

"So what you're saying is…" Carmelita sat up slowly, resting her back against the door to one of the passenger cars. "I can either play hardball for you or I can play 'solo mio' and start with the clue you've provided. So long as I don't get in anyone's way, neither side will see me as a threat. Correct?"

"Not completely, Carmelita Fox." Cleo knelt down besides the vixen, ducking below the light of the small window. "If you continue on without me, Jacob White will be forced to sabotage your case, your evidence and everything you do while you're here. He works for America. America doesn't want anyone to be able to trace those men back to the American Military because that would prove to the rest of the world that America is interfering with a third party who has _immunity_."

"This is a bunch of political horse crap!" Carmelita struggled to arch her back so that she could pull the gun out from her pants. The bruise on her hip was painful and tender to the touch. "Several countries already have spies right here, right now. None of you are in the right; especially if this place is under an immunity clause, no matter how temporary that clause may be!"

"I'd rather see egg on AJ's face than on my own." Cleo simply shrugged. "You're not supposed to be here, either. And yet, your investigation has led you here. Your choice is to solve this case, put all the pieces together then go home. You get reprimanded for trespassing but you've solved the case and you get a handshake. Your other option is to file a report with Interpol that you're here. They tell you to get the hell out of here… they tell you that you're not supposed to be here. They tell you that you're not authorized to be here. They send you back to the mainland to finish your investigation but it's a dead end, up there. Then you're going home empty-handed."

Carmelita furrowed a brow. "What about the part where Interpol shows up and you pull out?"

Cleo stood up again. Her sandy bangs hung over her face, obscuring her discolored eyes. "That's if you get into trouble because you're stubborn and do this crap alone. They'll show up to rescue you, even temporary political immunity won't stop them from sending an investigation team to retract an agent who's pinned down in the field. Nothing short of a war zone …or maybe an imminent nuclear explosion in a heavily sanctioned demilitarized zone… could keep Interpol from rushing in like Calvary on the back of Pegasus. But then you've got nothing to show for it."

"One more question," said the fox. "Why should I trust you?"

"I'll tell you what you _want_ to hear, then I'll tell you what you _don't_ want to hear." Cleo cleared her throat for the dramatic effect then continued. "I'm going to give you all the evidence you need to do your job; you'll find out who those men are, you'll find out how and why they were sent in and why they were unable to do the simple task that Sly Cooper performed. Then your job will be done and you can go home. Another reason to trust me is because I just saved your life."

"Cooper saved my life plenty of times but he's still…" Carmelita trailed off; all the hurt came back now that she wasn't running for her life.

"A criminal?" Baroness chuckled. "So a cop is saved by Robin Hood and it hurts her pride and sense of justice. Boo-freakin'-hoo. You'd better get used to it if you two are dating now. That's not betrayal on his part; that's him keeping his personal life separate from his business life. I can respect a man who can check his feelings at the door when he punches in to work. Equally, I love a man who doesn't bring his work home with him."

"His betrayal is in the fact that he _promised_ not to steal. If he can't make that promise, he shouldn't have vowed to me; his deception is…" Carmelita suddenly found herself interrupted by the squirrel.

"Okay, fine!" She threw her gray paws up in the air and added, "So you can't trust me because I saved your life. Whatever! I'm not here to debate your personal relationship! Now, the things you _don't_ want to hear is _this_… I've personally ordered the Mercenaries on that island to hunt you down. Their orders are to find you, disable you, capture you and take you out to sea. There, they would set up an accident so that your death is nothing more than a mere fatal mistake… maybe you were in a small boat that hit a reef, or maybe they would bruise your ankle in a way that would suggest you stumbled and went overboard, only to be chopped into giblets by the propeller."

Carmelita widened her eyes, horrified. "What in the hell?" She gawked at Cleopatra then asked her question a second time. "What in the hell, lady?"

"I'm head of security; I'm undercover. Ordering the hired guns to give you directions to Cuba will arouse suspicions that will inhibit me from doing my job. I would have interfered, staged my own 'accident'. The mercenary ship taking you out to sea would have 'hit a reef' or something similar. They would have died, your cell would have broken and you'd have somehow escaped on a route back to the mainland." Cleo paused then offered Carmelita a smirk. "If you were dumb enough to come back, I'd have been far less forgiving. I'm not here to save the lives of cops. I'm here to do a job and walk away successfully. I'm here to complete my mission objectives and go home."

Carmelita frowned then asked, "So you rescued me as the 'one time professional favor'?"

"No," Cleo replied with a flat tone. "I rescued you because you're useful to me. We can usurp your ties with Sly Cooper to obtain the artifact. Then I recover it, they go home empty handed. You get information on Five United States Navy Seals and who betrayed them and why they were executed. When my faction is finished with the artifact, _we_ are the ones who return it to the Vatican."

"DAMMIT!" Carmelita snapped, balling her paws into fists again. "Aren't there _any_ honest people left on this crappy planet?"

"It's the rules of the game," Cleo said, holding back a giggle. "Surly a woman of your caliber is familiar with the age-old art of subterfuge. Fallacy may be in our natural tendency to be dishonest but when you get to _my_ world, it's an art form. Having you file a report that puts egg on the face of America is a huge bonus because it removes the microscope that politicians have placed on my shoulder."

"And by _your_ shoulder, you mean _Germany_'s shoulder?" Carmelita asked.

"No," said Cleo. "I mean the faction that the conspiracy theorists call "The fourth riche." It's a lot of disinformation; I don't have time to write a novel for you. At least not today. You wouldn't believe it but _my_ government is _only_ on the World Wide Web."

"…Pardon?" Carmelita just blinked at the woman. She stood up, face to face with the squirrel, tilting her head slightly. _'That's a new one,'_ she thought to herself. "You're a spy working for the Internet?"

"I'm funded by private online parties," Cleo said with a pleasant smile. "But I promise that you'll never find proof to back up my claim. If you choose not to believe it, so much the better. Disinformation is my trade, anyhow. Rich people on the World Wide Web pay to support an intelligence community, the Internet Illuminati if you prefer, where trained agents like myself go out and _spy_ in the name of truth. Then select parties online are privileged to information which, as we all know, is power. They take what they learn and write up a handful of rumors about each tidbit. They put it on the internet and because no one rumor is exactly correct _or_ incorrect, nobody goes out of their way to filter or _hide_ the rumor.

"Because nobody is covering up this information, it becomes free to the world in the form of disinformation. It's up to the user to see through the rumors and understand the reality of the information. Select people are allowed to know the unsullied truth. It is up to them to turn that into disinformation. They use satire, sarcasm and honest-to-God straight-up _bullshit_ as camouflage so that the information and disinformation reaches the public… and the rest of the 'online power players' spanning the globe."

"And…Germany?" Carmelita was simply dumbfounded.

"Another disinformed, misinformed, uninformed rumor of cover up. Or is it? I mean, I _do_ get pay checks from Germany when I do espionage jobs for them. Back in the '80s I was given some clout by the Chancellor. So who is to know? Who can tell? Who cares?" Cleo gave another smile. "Maybe I'm a double agent to myself, Carmelita. Anything is possible. It's up to those with a sharp mind to wade through the disinformation in order to garnish _information_ because knowledge is _power_. And power is divine."

"So you're an Information-age savvy Mercenary for hire," Carmelita concluded. "That is, _if_ you're not throwing me a load of disinformation with your story, which is both true and false at the same time. Right?"

"Right on the money, sister," Cleo replied with a smile. "I'm a mercenary today, I'm a counteragent tomorrow, I'm a government secret agent next week and I'm a make-believe online power player vying for online information every other Tuesday and on random Thursdays. Some Intelligence profiles claim that I don't even exist."

"And how is _that_ possible, when you're standing right here?" Carmelita asked.

Cleo snatched a sandy-mixed-auburn tendril in her fingers and twirled it like a schoolgirl. "They claim my twin sister and I… Are you ready for this? Heh; that we are the _same_ person. I really _like_ that bit of disinformation; it's the cutest rumor out there. It's a conspiracy theory that says I'm a double-agent working for both the CIA and freelancing for rich German politicians who dabble in the intelligence community. I _wish_ I was clever enough to have came up with _that_ one…"

"Maybe you are; maybe you did," Carmelita replied.

"_Now_ you're getting it," Cleo exclaimed, patting Carmelita on the shoulder. "Maybe I am and maybe I really _am_ my sister, Sasha. Only the 'Internet Illuminati' knows the truth. The disinformation is free to the public, allowing them to use their mind and figure out the truth for themselves. Anyhow, stow your gun; we may need them to get out of here. Let's go inside, shall we?" The baroness hooked a thumb at one of the two passenger cars and gave a smile.

Carmelita turned about and opened the sliding metal door. "So, congratulations, you're the International Woman of Mystery and Confusion. Why all the cloak and dagger?"

"So that information can no longer be kept from the people," said Moore. "If it's purposely wrong, who is going to cover it up? Within the art of lies and deception, the truth becomes free for _everyone_ who wishes to know. It's the only way around sanctions and political cover ups. The only way to get the truth to the world is to encode it then guide the information-age user onto the path of enlightenment. Eventually, they'll be able to decode the disinformation on their own. The truth shall not only set you free, but the power you gain from the knowledge you garnish makes you powerful. For millions of people to know the truth means that we're all safe. The government can assassinate one knowledge holder, but what about one hundred million knowledge holders?"

Carmelita groaned. "Okay, enough." She stepped in, waited for Cleo to enter, then turned about and shut the door. "I'm getting a headache; you're making my brain hurt."

"Stop grousing, I've just set you free," Cleo laughed. "You've just been released from The Matrix, if you'd like to look at it that way. There's no pill to swallow, you either choose ignorance or you open your mind to the electronic network of knowledge and information. In six months, there will be ten websites with varying stories on the rumors behind 'New Atlantis' yet _you_ know the truth."

"Nice metaphor," Carmelita said, adding, "But that's just a movie. Who knows what the Wachowski Brothers were suggesting. Comparing the real world to Hollywood is _hardly_ a worthy analogy."

Cleo glanced around at the passengers who were minding their own business. "I'll say one last thing, then we'll leave it at that and drop the subject."

"Go on." The Inspector pushed her paws into her pockets, trying to be mindful of the bruise on her hip.

The baroness grinned and put her arm around Carmelita's shoulders. She leaned in close and spoke in a quiet voice. "Ever notice how the Cooper Gang was _always_ well informed? They always garnished information off of the Internet through Bentley, even if they were only trying to figure out where a bad guy hid a piece of Clockwerk in an uncharted jungle in the middle of an uncivilized, _third world_ country?"

"Yeah, I always wondered how they were two steps ahead of _everyone_ else," muttered Carmelita.

"It's because someone on the internet _wanted_ Bentley to know. Someone _wanted_ knowledge and truth to become weapons against enemies of the world. You've got to know where to look, how to distinguish information from disinformation and you've got to know who is spreading the knowledge; it's elementary my dear Carmelita. I promise you, there is no fiber optic pumping information through the Haitian underground. The only thing under Haiti is dirt and roots. But someone went in, spied and reported their findings to someone else through an email, using a camera on their cellular phone. And now certain people know right where the drug cartel is hiding, how many kilos of coke they have and if it's the good stuff or the crappy stuff. And that's how this game works. Now, are you with me or not?"

Carmelita sunk into a nearby seat and folded her arms across her chest. "I won't betray Sly Cooper; I won't _steal_ his stupid little artifact and _deliver _it to you." She then grinned up at the woman and, feeling clever, said, "But I'm with you; I just need evidence of information _not_ in the form of _disinformation_ to put an investigation together about those Seals. It's up to _you_ to coerce Sly into _handing over_ the artifact. What's so damn important about it, anyhow?"

Cleo became very blunt. "It was a tool designed to murder a demigod or even the Son of God; but was bathed in the blood and water of the Creator in the form of a Mortal, thus imbuing it with Holy Powers. The wielder becomes immune to everything save for natural aging. It is one of many relics that are necessary to resurrect the Prince of Darkness. Until the death of the Son of the Creator, the devil couldn't be resurrected because his time of reign cannot take place _before _the meridian of time; that would be too early. You can't just _skip_ from the Old Testament straight to the Revelations. In a world of freewill, you have to have some linear timeline of fate to get us from the beginning of time to the end of time. The question is… how long do we have between the 'half-way point' and 'the end' of time? Some people want to rush us; yes I knew about Sire and his hooligans. But he wasn't the only one who wanted to celebrate the dark days of the Revelations. Now that this artifact and the other necessary relics have come to exist, it's only a matter of time before they're all brought together. And, of course, as always, you have the choice to believe in that or scoff at it. And yes, you can find it on the internet… _somewhere_."

Carmelita knew where this was going. "And that means there are thirty-five different opinions and views on it and each one is different yet similar to the rest. Right?"

Cleopatra Moore smiled brightly. "Bingo."

"So is it really the Spear of Destiny?" Carmelita's question caused Cleo to groan.

The squirrel rolled her eyes. "Do you have a DNA sample of _Jesus Christ_ in order to find out?"

"Uh… No."

The squirrel settled down into a chair next to Carmelita and chuckled a bit. "Then shut the hell up; _no one_ can prove it. No one knows if this thing is anything more than a pointy object that a popular religious faction claims is a historical-aged centerpiece of a Biblical miracle. For Chrissake, Inspector, I'm agnostic. I don't believe in God, Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit, Muhammad, Buddha, Abraham, Gaia, the Greek _or_ Roman gods… I don't believe in evolution, I don't believe in Darwin, I don't believe in Darwin's self-disproving theory, I don't believe in metaphors, I don't believe in disinformation, I don't believe in conspiracies… I just open my mind and know that _I_ exist. Who gives a shit about _how_ or _why_ I exist. Those are the _only_ things that cannot be proven with _any_ amount of knowledge."

Cleo continued, "No matter what you believe, a scientist will come along and prove, then disprove, then reprove it. Okay, so Moses parted the Red Sea. Well guess what? Every year, like clockwork, the _reed_ sea, a reed-covered patch of marsh where the Red Sea begins, parts from wind patterns. A lowered sandbar emerges with an actual, factual eight-foot wall of water on either side. Because of that part of the world, the climate and the jet stream, it's like blowing air on your milk-covered spoon over a bowl of cereal. You can part the milk for a little while until you run out of breath. If you stood at the same height as one grain of sand, that milk would look ten feet high to you. Well, I've seen it. The _reed_ sea has this happen every year. Moses was lucky. Did divine intervention direct him that route on that precise date and time? Maybe! But the wind will hold the wall of water apart for several straight hours. Then, when a change in the wind occurs, the water sloshes back together. One day, scientists are going to find Pharaoh's men, chariots, horses and armor under that mud. Until then? Who cares what I believe, right? And _that_ is the point. Every passage of every religion was built on both information and disinformation. Nothing in the world has changed."

Carmelita crossed her eyes, looking away. "My headache is coming back. Look, I'll help you by not bringing in fifty Interpol agents; just make sure I get my evidence and one more thing… whatever you learn behind Sly's heist… I want to know. Okay?"

Cleo smiled again. "Excellent."

* * *

**"You would be surprised** about what you could learn on the Internet." Of all people, the voice belonged to AJ. The still-injured fox slumped back in the seat of the submarine. Sly paced the deck, worried about the one he loved. Jacob continued his speech. "Deception is the name of the game. Is the hand _really_ faster than the eye? Or did the hand simply misdirect the attention of the eye? The CIA heavily monitors _people_ who heavily monitor the Internet because we're not large enough to single-handedly monitor the entire Internet by ourselves. At least not every page, twenty-four hours a day. But when something comes up, we're watching. And if my sources say that Clockwerk was somewhere in New Atlantis, then I believe it." 

Sly held his paw up in protest. "How in the heck do you fit a two-story metallic bird in an underwater dome without _anyone_ seeing him?"

"Misdirection!" Agent White threw his paws into the air as if to add dramatic flair to his exclamation.

"You don't pull the wool over the eyes of three hundred thousand," Sly quipped.

AJ grinned. "But you _can_ build a tunnel, claim it collapsed, then bring Clockwerk in underground. Just because _we_ didn't see him, doesn't mean he _isn't_ there. Personally, I still have trouble believing he's back. Maybe another big metal owl was built, sure; maybe that's the thing that had been captured by the 'ruler' of New Atlantis. But even the truth behind Clockwerk was kinda sketchy. There's no proof that some owl became a machine, before modern machinery was even invented."

Sly held his paws up, almost defensively. "So, if he really is there, what does that mean?"

"Hell if I know," AJ replied. "It means maybe Carmelita was sidetracked; never saw the heist and, instead, came across Clockwerk. Either way, this artifact has to be returned. If she doesn't turn up, you know where New Atlantis is; you can come back and look for her."

"I don't want to leave without her." Sly spoke firmly to show that he felt adamant about this entire situation. "You go without me; take the artifact and the job is finished. I'll go back in there and make sure the other half of our 'mandate' is complete… that Carmelita isn't killed."

AJ slowly said, "Actually…"

Sly cut his gaze at the fox. "What?"

The vulpine agent shrugged slightly, still smarting from the pain in his abdomen. "Our mandate was to ensure she wasn't killed before the operation concluded. It was to ensure that she did _not_ report any information on the Seals, our heist or anything else. It was to ensure that she did not learn anything and went back empty handed. Once the mission concluded, it's no longer our concern if she's in New Atlantis or if she accidentally gets herself killed there. The reason I'm in a hurry to leave is because I think she _did_ see the heist. I think she's _angry_ with you and she left, enraged. Her first priority is now to report to her superior that you and a CIA operative stole the Spear of Destiny from New Atlantis and anything else she might have learned… if we can reach the mainland and cut her off before she can reach port, we can stop her from reporting back to Interpol."

"Go on ahead," Sly replied. "I'll stay here and search for her, just incase she makes it out _after_ we leave and reports back to Interpol. How does that sound? We can cover more ground that way."

Jacob ran his fingers through his fur slowly, scratching at his chin for a moment. While Sly had a point, he didn't want to be alone until he was back on the mainland just incase he had another stroke-like occurrence. Finally he nodded. "Fine, meet me and your team back in Washington DC as soon as you're finished. They'll be our guests until you arrive."

"Are you going to be all right on your own?" Sly stopped his pacing and turned to the Reynard.

"I'm a splinter agent, I'll be fine." AJ stood up, approached Sly, coming around behind the raccoon. He then pulled out his gun, placed it into Sly's right paw then reached around behind Cooper, taking the raccoon's paw into his own. "Watch carefully," said the agent. He then took Sly's paw and guided the thief through the motions of twirling a gun. "Jut your palm and anticipate. As soon as you feel the handle, close your paw. Now, you're holding the gun as straight as your wrist is extended. If you fire, you'll hit anything lined up with your wrist."

Sly gave it a try on his own and widened his eyes at how easy it was to accomplish correctly. He tried it again with equal success. "Thanks, AJ."

Jacob stepped back, gingerly patting Sly on his shoulder. "Practice makes perfect; don't do it in a gunfight unless you've already done it in your sleep."

"Well, the way I see it…" Sly shrugged a bit then smiled somewhat. "I've got to become a marksman before getting into a gunfight. Guns are great tools but I wield them better from the deck of a pirate ship or on the wings of a biplane. But like you said…"

"…Practice makes perfect," repeated AJ, finishing Sly's statement. "Okay, go find your girlfriend. Good luck, I hope you find her before I do; that would be a very good thing and one less worry on my shoulders."

Sly nodded slowly, approaching the diver's hatch on the floor at the back of the small sub. "I just have this feeling that she's still here in this city." He opened the hatch and put his feet into the water, glancing back at AJ with a shrug. "If she _did_ see that heist, she'll be upset, disappointed and _very_ angry at me."

"Good luck with your extraction," Jacob said. "If you're caught, you know the rules. See ya' in Washington DC."

"Until then," Sly replied. He wasn't an Olympic swimmer but the water pool leading into this facility didn't have any current. He slid into the water and AJ came up to shut the hatch behind Cooper's departure. Sly then wrapped his paws around the handles on the outside of the sub and made his way up to the topside. With a quick push of his legs, he shot up through the water like a bullet until his head broke the surface. He still held the gun in his paw.

"Okay, Honey." Cooper glanced around the still-empty facility. "I'm coming to get'cha."

* * *

A/N: _Next Chapter: "Chapter 8: Lovers' Quarrel" Now that we know that AJ and Cleopatra … and even Sasha… aren't exactly who they seem, I feel the main plot is far enough along that we can take a short break from it and focus on the subplot: Sly and Carmelita! Yes, they're going to actually combat one another like the good ole' fashion days… Cop Vs. Crook. Will they use actual guns with actual bullets? I doubt it; it'll be a race to who can catch and capture the other. Sly wants to get her out of Atlantis and she wants to take him down for stealing. _

_I promise it will be action packed, interesting and there will be lots of fighting scenes. I've already half-way written it… but I felt THIS was a good place to stop. After all, the reader had a lot to digest in this chapter. We now learn that someone we thought was a badguy is actually a spy for a third party… not a country but the _Internet_ of all things! Is it true? Who knows, I've not decided yet! Also, what about Bentley rushing off last chapter? Something about Clockwerk and saving both Sly and Carmelita? It all ties in with a loophole from Lament of Carmelita! _

_Stay tuned! I'm trying to write a whole lot over the next few days, so when I start my move, I'll have felt productive in this story! Plus, I'm just blazing through it. Who knows, maybe I'll finish it sooner than I thought. I'd better not jinx myself by saying that. _

_Okay, get ready for the next chapter: LOVERS' QUARREL. _


	8. Lovers' Quarrel

Chapter -8-  
Lovers' Quarrel

…several days later…

**Carmelita's words rang in the ears of Sly Cooper**, tormenting his memories. "I'm crying because hating you is the _only_ thing harder than loving you," she'd told him from behind the yawning muzzle of a gun. It was before they both parted ways in the Atlantis Dome. Her tone was chilling and bitter. It caused Sly to visibly wince but the expression was hidden in the dark. There he sat, perched on top of the motion sensor that faced the lobby of Langley's CIA headquarters.

Sly placed a small emitter between his toes, on the tip of the motion sensor module. After a few seconds, a small holographic field was generated from the emitter, displaying a small cube directly in front of the motion sensor's lens. The security module now looked at an empty holographic model of the room, tricking both the security visual _and_ the automatic motion tracking display. Only one thing left to completely render the wall-mounted unit harmless… Sly placed a small speaker overtop of the high dynamic built-in microphone at the bottom of the unit. The speaker played a simulated noise that tricked the sensor into thinking it heard a consistent, empty gray-noise.

It was the last main room he had to fix, so that he could make a sudden escape if things hit the fan. Now that he'd completed the deed, Sly dropped to the floor in a crouch. He panned his gaze left to right, staying completely silent. Footfalls could be heard in the corridor to the far left; a night guard that fetched coffee from the recreational lounge.

Sly, wearing specially padded soles on his shoes, sprinted across the tile floor and into that hallway. Up ahead, a broad-shouldered husky with an over-curled tail walked down the hallway, holding the cup of Joe (coffee) in his left paw. Sly used his momentum, up-swinging his cane and caught the man in the back. It lifted the guard straight up into the air. Cooper then darted to the right, putting his foot out and bounding off the wall then jumped in front of the guy, only to bound off the opposite hallway wall and back behind the guy. Within seconds, his whirlwind trick rendered the guard into a complete state of unconsciousness. (A/N: _This is a move in the game_)

Cooper thrust his right paw into the air and snatched the coffee cup, only spilling a few drops on the tile floor. Sly then rolled the guard over so that he was lying in the slight spill to soak it up. Sly quickly guzzled the coffee down, careful not to let the Styrofoam cup touch his lips. The raccoon then placed the empty cup on the man's forehead, upside down. "Boy, don't _you_ like it sweet," Sly whispered. He licked his lips for a moment due to the amount of sugar that the guard had used in the coffee then continued on down the hallway.

This whole thing involving Carmelita turned out to be a bunch of sour apples. Sly ran into her on the way out of the Atlantis Dome and she'd tried to take him down with her shock pistol. The whole situation became a mess with Sly evading capture while an angry vixen chased him through the streets of an underwater city. The thing is, she threw evidence in his face that suggested she had inside help. She mentioned that she knew about the Seals and that she knew he stole by commission. He couldn't refute it; she'd caught him red handed and said his betrayal hurt her. She mentioned that this could have been resolved if he'd _trusted_ her enough to let her in on the secret.

Her words replayed in his head again. "_If you can't trust me with a secret, how can I trust you with my heart? I have to stop you from stealing all those artifacts; you have no idea what you're doing, Cooper. Your thieving ways will get us all killed; the safest place for you is **jail**._" The only thing that kept him from feeling completely broken hearted came in the form of visual hope… Carmelita never removed her ring that night; seeing it on her finger became his optimistic counter-thought to the depression that now plagued him.

Now Cooper had _two_ problems… He ran down the hallway trying to keep his head clear but his focus wavered on his love-life. '_Not only does Carmelita not trust me anymore, I have to investigate her claims of the CIA knowing where ALL the artifacts were located,_' he thought to himself, regulating a deep breathing pattern to maintain his long sprint.

That night, back in the Atlantis Dome, Carmelita threw in his face that the CIA sought the artifact for their personal safe keeping. But Sly worried that if someone used their information to obtain the location of _all_ the artifacts, they could use it to the same effect that Sire wished; ushering in a future world of darkness by placing a resurrected spirit of evil into Clockwerk's new body. Cooper couldn't allow that to happen.

Sly wanted to amass that information himself, plant Bentley's virus in the CIA database and let Bentley wipe out all the information pertaining to the location of _all_ the artifacts. According to Bentley's sources and Carmelita's accusations, the CIA also obtained information on a weapon capable of stopping Clockwerk without causing a massive reaction. If Steven's parting words (A/N: Chapter 30, Lament Of Carmelita) about those stolen pearls were true, then using them to stop Clockwerk had to be a _last_ resort. Bentley's virus would wipe out all information, including backup archives.

Sly just had to get into their data center. Breaking into the CIA headquarters proved to be an incredible challenge. Somehow, a strange online contact assured Bentley that it could be done and now, here they were, actually pulling off the heist with precision. Minutes flew by and Sly found himself entering the main server room. Large computer towers lined one end of the room along with a surprise…

Carmelita Fox had her paws folded across her chest, leaning back against one of the server machines with a smirk. "I can't let you take this information. Are you really so naïve to think that you're every move _isn't_ being watched? What happens when you amass all the parts? You destroy them? It sure didn't happen like that the last time; does the name Clock-La ring a bell, Cooper?" She still wore his engagement ring.

She narrowed her eyes and added, "Also, the CIA no longer has their artifact from the Atlantis Dome. You won't find it here; it's been stolen _again_ and my hunch is that it's someone _inside_ the CIA's ranks. But what do _I_ know? I'm just _Interpol_ with no jurisdiction. This is a job for the FBI; strange, they've not lifted a finger. So, I'll give you an ultimatum."

"I'm listening," Sly replied. He looked her over with an appraising sort of gaze. She wore a high tech outfit that had a glossy look to it. Sly wasn't sure what it would be used for but it wasn't her normal attire. Once his eyes returned to hers, she smirked and began speaking again.

Carmelita's voice was strong and professional sounding. "You come with me and you sit in jail on misdemeanor charges. In a few days when this whole thing clears up, you're free to go. With this single act of good faith, I'll let you slide this _one_ time for cheating on me with your good-for-nothing bitch." She pointed to Sly's cane as if it was another woman.

"My other option is…?" Sly folded his arms, leaving his cane to lean up against his hip.

Carmelita visibly flinched, snarling in disgust. '_How could he dare to pick another choice? He puts his cane before ME? How dare he!' _she thought to herself, taking a long, slow breath. "You make a choice that costs you your relationship and beg me back for the next fifty years while trying to avoid capture."

"You once told me that it's all right if I steal," Sly started, holding his right paw up to keep her quiet. "The condition was… I either did it for police work reasons _or_ for world saving reasons. My plan wasn't to locate each artifact, amass them for a shadow agent to get the jump on me and then whine when the world ends. My idea was to make every world Intelligence group 'lose' track of them. Then I was going to get each piece and hide or destroy the artifact based on what it was. The religious spear? I wasn't going to destroy _that_. The golden locust from Panama? I was definitely going to destroy _that_ one."

"Sly," Carmelita said with a groan. "Why are you so damn stubborn? This is where we're supposed to be happy together and we're supposed to be planning our wedding!"

"And I want that! Help me find these pieces Carmelita," Sly pleaded.

"No!" Carmelita threw her paws outwards, shaking her head disdainfully. "You're breaking the law, Cooper! You KNOW I don't tolerate that! Walk away from this, Sly. I don't know _who_ is shadowing you but they're going to collect those pieces and you _still_ haven't gone after Clockwerk!"

Sly put his paws back up, defensively. "He's below the radar right now. I'm waiting for him to resurface."

"He already has!" Carmelita growled, tucking the shock pistol under her left arm. "But you were too busy being a dirty, thieving criminal to _notice_! That's right, Sly, I saw him in the Atlantis Dome. He was chained down with wires running from his body to some small metal statue. Your priorities are all screwed up, Cooper. I… I can't do this relationship thing with you. You've not grown up; everything is out of sorts." She reached her right paw for her left, starting to pull the ring from her finger. "I'm sorry."

"Carmelita wait!" Sly cried, approaching her. She paused, looking up at him. He blinked for a moment, searching for the right words to say but nothing came to his mind. "Please… just don't. Let me prove to you that I can make everything better. Please…"

"Sly," Carmelita sighed. "The more you involve yourself, the more you make yourself a target. When you're assassinated, I'll have lost the love of my life; that's why I have to disassociate and get over you _now_. Because you're going to get yourself killed."

"But what if I live through this?" Sly asked.

Carmelita's lower lip trembled but her mind was already made up. "If you walk out of here without handcuffs, you'll be dead to me."

Sly shook his head slowly. "You have to at least let me put that virus into the CIA mainframe. If they don't know where the artifacts are, then no one can break in here like we did and steal the information. I'll go with you _in handcuffs_ if you at least agree to that condition."

"Sly, I love you, but if you stay involved, you stay a target." Carmelita left the ring on her finger but pointed the gun back in his face. "Place your paws upon your head, turn around and part your ankles. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you, so shut your mouth."

"I love you," Sly told her. "But please understand that what I'm doing is being done so I can guarantee _us_ a better future."

"Then let's do this," said Fox, taking aim with her shock pistol. "We'll eyeball our future. IF you can prove to me that you're breaking the law out of love, to destroy Clockwerk and to save the world, I'll take you back. But if you don't prove all those things in the very end, you can take this ring and shove it up your…"

She suddenly paused, taking a shot at Sly who began to dash off. "Where are you going? I didn't say I was going to LET you break the law without me trying to stop you!" She fired again and Sly ducked the electronic burst. He shimmied up the wall and knocked the ceiling tiles out, climbing up into the lighting fixtures.

Carmelita ran after him, leaping up and wrapping her paw around his tail. To Cooper's surprise, she yanked him down to the floor hard. He crashed to his shoulders but kicked his leg up, knocking her gun across the floor. Carmelita wasn't finished, however, and delivered a stomp to his ribs to try and disable him; her training kicked in but Sly was ready. He knew he was outmatched by someone who trained to fight every day but his sense of duty helped him to stay on task.

Sly rolled away from her, groaning inwardly at his new bruise. He kicked her ankles out and she fell to the floor. Sly took that opportunity to run back across the room, heading for the computer terminals. He pulled the desk out and crammed it into the slot only to receive a roundhouse to the back of his head.

The resilient raccoon lurched forward, careening into the machine. He then dropped to the ground and rolled away from her. She reached for the disk to try and yank it back out of the machine but Sly wrapped his paws around her belt and pulled her to the floor; she landed on top of him. "I thought you wanted to wait until marriage?" Sly joked, grinning up at her.

She drew her fist back and clocked him in the snout. Sly grunted but reached up and wiggled his paws against her tight stomach. She gasped at the sensation of being tickled, trying to take another swing at him with her left paw. Cooper glanced over her shoulder at the computer readout and saw that the download was nearly complete from the disk.

She caught him with his attention elsewhere and used the opportunity to snatch his wrists. Carmelita then slammed her head down, head-butting him across the forehead. A satisfied smile crept over her face, hearing him groan in pain. She then jumped up to her feet and whirled around to reach for the disk just as it reached 'one hundred percent'. "Crap!" the Inspector shouted, pounding her fist against the computer.

"I love you!" Sly exclaimed, getting to his feet quickly. He then ran for the door. Carmelita snatched the disk from the terminal then kicked her Shock Pistol straight up into the air. She snatched it in her left paw, switched it to her right then opened fire. Cooper was already through the door however and she took off to pursue him.

"Come back here, you damn criminal!" Carmelita shouldered the swinging door open and ran out into the hallway after him. Blue globs of electric discharge floated down the hallway but Sly was quick enough to evade them. He put his foot up on the wall then shimmied off of it in a side-flip. The cobalt discharge slammed into the floor; he landed back on his feet and took off again. "Dammit!" Carmelita shouted.

"Make the napkins whatever color you want," Sly called back to her. "The sooner I solve this mystery, the sooner we can get married and have as many kids as you want!"

"Shut your mouth!" Carmelita retorted; their loud bantering attracted nearly every guard in the vicinity. Those guards began to pour out of the woodwork, opening fire with _very real_ handguns and submachine guns.

Sly stopped in a part of the hallway where a bathroom was on his right and a door leading to another hallway was on his left. He turned about, snagged Carmelita by her collar and shoved her into the perpendicular hallway, to keep her out of the line of gunfire. Shoving against her, he pushed himself back into the bathroom across the hall, just in time to watch a volley of gunshots strike the floor, walls and doors they disappeared through. Whether or not Carmelita realized it, Sly saved her life again.

"Go!" Sly shouted, "Get outside!"

"No! I'm after you!" she shouted back through the door.

Sly knew that she wouldn't leave without him so it was up to him to lead her off the premises before they were both shot. He pushed off of the first bathroom stall and dashed back across the hallway followed by more gunshots in his wake. He disappeared back into the perpendicular hallway, bowling her over. He got back to his feet, snatched her collar, pulling her to her feet then pinched the gun out of her paw.

Sly shoved her shock pistol into her holster and grabbed her muzzle in his free paw, until their eyes met. "Follow me, sexyfox; we're getting out of here alive. Or we're both going to an American Federal Prison. Let's GO, _law breaker_!" He gave her a shove to her feet and took off down the hall, passing her. Exactly as he knew she would, Carmelita took off after him.

The door behind them opened and the night guards began shooting at them. "This way!" cried Sly, pivoting on his ankle. His shoulder collided with Carmelita and he knocked her into another adjoining hallway. She reached for his collar to try and tackle him but he was too slippery. Sly rolled away from her and bolted off down the hallway. "There are guards and guns outside, so follow me; we have a trampoline tarp by the gates; that's how I plan to hop over them for the escape!"

"Shut up and stop resisting arrest!" Carmelita shouted back.

"These guards are going to shoot _you_ _too_," Sly huffed, adding, "You are breaking and entering a high security federal compound!"

"Yeah, to arrest you!" Carmelita continued after him. At the end of the hall, she saw Cooper reach into his pocket and pull out a small device. He underhand-tossed the contraption into the glass doors further down the hallway. The sonic disrupter caused the thick glass to shatter, leading to the outside. He put his arms over his head and ran through and she followed suit. "So help me, I'm going to break your neck when I catch you!"

"C'mon, we're almost there!" Sly shouted back to her. He dashed out into the grass and headed for the large wall at the end of the compound. He ducked incoming bullets, running with his paws over his head, ducking low.

Carmelita did the same; her training kicked in. A bullet clipped Sly, taking away his balance, spinning him like a top and that's when she realized just how serious this situation was. These guards were going to shoot first and let the CIA do the research on their corpses. "Crap, crap, crap!" she shouted, snatching Sly by the underarms and guiding him back to his feet in one fell swoop.

The two made it to the wall where he jumped on the trampoline and disappeared over the large wall. She followed, tucking into a roll so as to get back to her feet with ease on the other side. In the background, Langley County state police cars could be seen on a nearby road up ahead. Their flashing blue lights and blaring sirens were bad news for Cooper but Carmelita knew that she was back in her jurisdiction outside of the CIA compound.

"I'm heading for the Kremlin," Sly shouted back at her. "Russia is planning to sell information on the whereabouts to the artifacts they've already uncovered. There's even talk of," Sly paused to pant, drawing in a deep breath, then adding, "…of an auction. That's what you don't understand! Someone has already located half of the parts; that guy from the dome has cult fanatics searching the globe for them!"

"You're an idiot, trying to break into _another_ super power intelligence headquarters!" she shouted. "You freakin' criminal, just stay put for once!"

"See you there!" Sly said, suddenly stopping again. He snatched her by the waist, stealing her equilibrium. He doubled her over, kissed her hard then let her to the ground, leaving her on her back. Sly then sprinted off again, disappearing into the dark streets in the direction opposite of the incoming cops. He knew he had to give'em the slip and having her running after him and screaming would have attracted too much attention.

Carmelita sat up and went for her shock pistol but Sly was already gone. She pounded the grass angrily. The stomping noise of incoming well-armed troops approached on all sides and she went for her badge, fishing it out of her shirt. She lifted the necklace from her head and held it up as they approached her, guns drawn.

"I'm Interpol, I'm after the suspect!" she announced, knowing that she didn't have to tell them she'd _also_ come from the CIA headquarters. "He's getting away! Search the area! He's _NOT_ armed, so use _NON-LETHAL means of takedown! _I'm serious, he has information we need for an investigation!" She had a light smear of blood on the fur of her arm; her attention quickly changed to look herself over, realizing that it was _his_ blood. She whispered, mostly to herself, "And… he's injured but running on adrenaline…"

Gunshots rang out in the background; Carmelita suddenly became one with her temper. "I SAID NO DAMN GUNS!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. Immediately, she charged the state police up on the road, holding her badge in the air. "STOP SHOOTING AT MY FREAKING SUSPECT!" she exclaimed at them, adding, "I'M INTERPOL, HE'S MY SUSPECT! USE NON-LETHAL TAKEDOWN TACTICS, DAMMIT!"

As she approached the state police task force, a group of officers flanked her, forcing her down to the grass. She was immediate handcuffed, pinned down by multiple police officers. Carmelita roared, "I am an INTERPOL OFFICER and you're letting my suspect get away, you idiots!"

"National security protocol," one of the officers replied, placing his knee against her back, just above her joined wrists. "We'll verify your claim later; our job is to take down everyone in the immediate area and turn you over to the Military Police at Andrew's Air Force Base. If you're really Interpol, you have nothing to worry about."

"The hell I don't!" Carmelita growled. "My suspect is getting away; your boys are shooting at him with live rounds! I need that suspect ALIVE!"

"Get her out of here." An officer in command knelt down besides her and looked at her badge then stood back up and hooked his thumb towards the nearest police car. "Run her prints; check the database against her badge number; the usual. If she checks out, put her in the brig for questioning; if not, send her to Andrew's solitary. Get back out there and find the other guy; see if there are any others."

"What the hell are you morons doing?" Carmelita shouted.

"Patriot act protocol," said the officer who had put cuffs on her a moment earlier. He lifted her to her feet and put his paw on her head, ducking her into the back of a police car. "It's up to the military to release you; this is a priority location, lady. Until you're verified, everyone we find is going into military custody. I'd wager it takes at least a day or two for them to review the security footage to clear ya. If you're really a cop, you know what we have to go through so… please, for your own sake, don't resist arrest. Play it by the book and let us finish processing you."

"I mean it," Carmelita said. "Non-lethal takedown tactics." Half of her words were cut off by the cruiser door being shut in her face. Carmelita lifted her legs up and pulled her cuffed paws beneath herself until she had her arms in front of herself. She then reached down to where the hem of her pants had been stitched and used her claws to fetch the key she always kept there. (A/N: _Remember in Lament of Carmelita when I mention that she'd started doing it since Sly cuffed her at the end of the first Game_?)

She uncuffed herself, threw the handcuffs on the floor and folded her arms, leaning back in the seat. She hid the key in her bra and huffed in annoyance. "If someone shoots that man, there will be hell to pay."

* * *

Andrew's Air Force Base, twelve hours later… 

**Carmelita Fox slept soundly in her cell** despite the firm, uncomfortable cot and the fact that she worried so deeply for Sly. Within her mind, she listened to the dialogue exchange between herself and Cleopatra Moore, the night she and Sly escaped the Atlantis Dome…

…_The train decelerated Cleopatra nudged Carmelita and said, "This is our stop. We'll all be pulling out at sundown. The waters are far too clear to leave by any means of transportation at this hour." _

_Carmelita frowned, coming to her feet. "But Cooper and AJ are supposed to be pulling out by mini sub; they're probably waiting on me." _

_"That's not your concern." Cleo stood up and straightened her blouse and jacket. She then turned to Carmelita and placed a paw on the vixen's shoulder. "Business before pleasure. You're a professional and you take your job very seriously. Sly is currently putting his job first and I know you're capable of doing the same." _

_Carmelita didn't reply. She remained quiet, pondering what was going through Cooper's mind right now. While he always pulled his heists like a professional, he always seemed to put flirting with his now-fiancé as top priority. Was he really tuning Carmelita out while on the job? She couldn't be sure. The image of him hanging above the exhibit, back in the museum, returned to her mind. _

_His smug grin and the finesse with which he pulled off his caper; it made her angry and upset all over again. She stowed her feelings as best as possible around the other woman but Cleo Moore seemed rather perceptive. _

_She reached into her purse; oddly this was the first time Carmelita noticed she had one. The squirrel retrieved a small bottle of eye drops and passed them to Carmelita. _

_Cleo went for a rhetorical question, already knowing Inspector Fox's profile. "Were you trying for a baby or do you already have children with him?" _

_"Wh…what? No! He only just proposed," Carmelita replied. _

_"Then stop stressing yourself over this relationship! Unless there are children involved, your worries are not nearly as bad as you think." Cleo turned from the vixen and nodded towards the nearest exit door. "Other than making you a mother, a man does very little for you. Unless you're incapable of providing for yourself, are clingy or wish to become a mother, men are nothing more than co-workers and family members. They're a boss or an intern. They're a cousin who sends you a birthday card a week late every single year. They're a teacher or a student. They're intelligent conversation sometimes, when you're lucky, but not much more. Unless you're seeking something more out of intercourse than pleasure, they're wasting your time." _

_"You honestly feel that way?" Carmelita just gawked at her for a moment before filing into line with all the other pedestrians, moving towards the train's exit. "And you're only…what? A few years older than me?" _

_Cleo grinned a bit. "Honey, my sister and I are in our 50's, sweetheart." _

_Carmelita stopped right there in line, turned around and just raked her gaze over the woman. She did a double take; people began moving around them. Confusion held the vixen tightly. "Bull. There's no way in hell you're anywhere even near forty, let alone fifty. Don't even try that with me." _

_"Honey," Cleo said, placing her paw on Carmelita's cheek. "These are the paws of a woman who once tried to climb the Berlin Wall in her thirties. I'm not kidding. And yes, I still have a sex drive in my 50's. Just ask Agent Jacob White." _

_"What?" Carmelita gawked at her for a moment then turned and filed back in the flow of departing passengers. Once they were outside, she was stopped by Cleo again and pulled out of line. Inspector Fox frowned thoughtfully. "So what the hell is the plan?" _

_"Catch up with Cooper." Cleo smiled a bit then added, "Let him know he hurt you, then give him a head start. He'll make it back to the mainland and seek you out. Then you tag him and you bag him for theft of that artifact. If he doesn't have it, you back off and stakeout. He'll lead you in the right direction. He's not the enemy, here. He's just a man who hurt your heart. The problem is, he's going to usher in the end of the world if that crap really is true. He's a highly painted target in SOMEbody's reticule." _

_"Excuse me?" Carmelita stared at her for a moment. She then sat down on a bench near the train, turning to face the tramcar they'd just come from. "How on Earth is Sly Cooper capable of inadvertently ending the world?" _

_The squirrel folded her arms, sort of glaring at Carmelita with those mismatched eyes. "He's going to do what he did before; amass all the parts in the name of 'good and righteousness.' He wants to hide'em or destroy'em." _

_"Yeah?" Carmelita nodded. "I understand why, even if he's not going through proper legal channels. It has to do with something we went through in Panama over a month ago" _

_"What happened the last time he amassed all the parts?" Cleo asked, unfolding and refolding her arms. _

"_Clockwerk was rebuilt and…" Carmelita frowned. "Oh hell. Someone out there is simply watching his progress, waiting for him to bring it all together so they can waltz right in… let him do the work then reap the reward. And it's not like he can destroy every single artifact; some of them are national treasures." _

_"We know where nine of them are, as does the CIA," said Cleo. She frowned then, in an adamant tone, added, "Sly will probably find the tenth and everything will be a gamble after that. Assassins will have a field day with him. You have to beat him down and arrest him for his own protection." _

_"He… has the tenth." Carmelita lowered her eyes, dropping her jaw wide open. It was suddenly clear. She couldn't remember if Steven had already told them; things were a little fuzzy right now, but as far as her epiphany, the tenth artifact just became clear as a bell. "He always has; this is why no one has ever known where or what the tenth piece was… it was a Cooper family heirloom they used when proposing to their prospective life-mate. I asked him to break the tradition by leaving that pendant in his family's vault… forever. Sly and I thought that those Pearls were the tenth but they're not… Oh my God." _

_Carmelita shook her head. It all made sense now. It all came together with an epiphany. Sly had the last piece in his vault; Sire was the only person who really knew what it did; it was more than just the fertility pendant or whatever. She knew she could have been wrong but her hunches were almost always right on the money. "Son of a gun, I wonder if he even knows it." _

_Cleopatra offered a sidelong grin, taking a seat on the bench besides Carmelita. "By telling him to keep it in storage, you've postponed the inevitable but you've not stopped it completely." She paused then shrugged. "Just like arresting him only postpones those pieces from coming together; even if it doesn't happen for another two thousand years, it'll eventually happen. Whether or not it's all a bunch of hocus pocus is the real question. However, arresting and detaining Sly over a theft is the best way to keep him alive. Then, to slow him down, do an interrogation; did he steal and betray or did he have some sort of world-saving reason?" _

_"You know, you have a point," Carmelita replied with a firm nod. "Since you seem to know everything, do ya know where I can find'em?" _

_Cleo gawked at her with a dull stare. "Waiting for you at your rally point, I'd imagine. However, you guys separated and you've been with me this whole time… So he probably got tired of waiting and is heading back to the museum to make sure you're okay." She watched as Carmelita turned away, facing the other passengers and the rest of the train station. "Carmelita, you've got to stop him so you can get that artifact back. I've done my part. You know what you're up against. Those five Seals couldn't steal the artifact because someone betrayed them and they were caught. Someone is working on the inside, here. That means Sly is in a great deal of danger and probably doesn't know it. Be careful who you trust, there are many agents out there who would stab you in the back and turn you in; you and Sly are not only on the same team as one another, you're on the same team as Clockwerk. Either destroy the machine or help to keep him from becoming some host body to some asshole with evil intentions. Clockwerk WILL help you until your usefulness runs out so, I wouldn't trust working with him. If you get the chance, kill him for good."_

_Carmelita nodded quietly, just blinking her eyes rapidly. She then turned from the lady and headed back towards another train in the opposite direction. She was confused and hurt but this was all so fresh and strange. _

Inspector Fox sat up in her cell and rubbed at her eyes. Her dream was only partially accurate. She wasn't sure why it replayed in her mind differently from the real memory but the conversation took place in a far more private area than in a public train station. The vixen wiped her eyes with the back of her paws again then stood up and shook hard as if trying to dry her fur from rain.

Rejuvenated, Carmelita approached the bars, taking the cold metal cylinders into her palms. At the end of the hall, footfalls filled the room; her ears perked and she leaned forward in an attempt to peer down the hallway. A well-dressed raccoon gentleman stopped in front of Carmelita's cell with a clipboard and voice recorder.

"My name is Detective Johnson, Miss. I've gotten you released into my custody and I'll need your assistance in closing this case; I've gone through the proper channels, notified Interpol and expedited your release procedure. I've obtained your passport and set up a flight. Where is Mister Cooper going next and I'll tell the pilot to plan out his route."

Carmelita eyed the man for a moment then, in a soft voice, told him, "Russia."

Johnson cleared his throat. "I know you're very intense and perform your job with gusto, Inspector. Please know that I'm _very_ by-the-book. I don't roughhouse suspects and I follow the chain of evidence just as intensely as my gut instincts. I do not rush in, guns blazing. I'm also fluent in English, German, French and…"

"Shut up and get me out." Carmelita waved her paw; she offered the dismissive gesture then turned her back to him. "I respect any cop who is a stickler for the rules; we won't butt heads, Detective. You can tell me about yourself and your outfit on the plane ride; until that time, you're just wasting time. When you turn your wheels, make sure the gears are engaged. Let's go."

"To the point if not a bit redundant aren't you?" The raccoon cleared his throat again, prompting Carmelita to turn back to face him. He passed her credentials back through the bars.

She took her badge and hung it from her neck then holstered her Shock Pistol, pocketed her wallet and adjusted the lay of her high-tech one-piece sneaking suit. "I need to change into something more fitting. I know they think I broke into CIA; I'm wearing a stealth camouflage suit, after all."

"Don't say a word about that," Johnson quickly told her. "The security tape shows that no break in occurred. There's a huge political crap-storm brewing and you're standing at ground zero. I'll call my tailor and we'll get you something warm for Russia. Did you tell anyone else your story, while you were here?"

"I got my phone call." Carmelita tilted her head, placing her paws back upon the bars. "The Chief advised me to stay quiet until Interpol could secure my release. He wanted me to finish the case and report everything to him, _not_ the American military police. So, I followed orders; I didn't tell anyone _anything_."

"Did you speak to Cooper before leaving Atlantis?" Obviously Johnson appeared far more educated than she initially realized.

"We sparred in the warehouse of the museum located in the dome. I smacked him around, he got in a few good jabs but I kept him on the defensive. He used a smoke bomb before I could overpower him. When he got away, I set up a stakeout and caught him red-handed."

"Okay, you can tell me about it, later," said the raccoon with a confirming nod. "We'll be flying out of Andrew's Aiforce Base, so I'm going to go and get your cell opened, then I want you to follow me. Our plane is waiting at the hanger, just minutes from here."

* * *

**The flight required a stop in London for refueling** and Carmelita drifted in and out of sleep from boredom. She still loved Sly and the thief was on her mind but she was angry and part of her wanted to end the engagement immediately. She struggled with it, allowing her mind to wonder back to the night she last saw him in the Atlantis Dome. 

She'd left Cleopatra Moore and headed up to the office building but Sly wasn't there. She then went back to the museum and waited for him to show up. She could remember everything in perfect clarity. She remembered breaking in, taking the guard's guns then spying on Clockwerk. Once everything was in position, she headed to the maintenance entrance from the sewers, knowing Sly would come in through them.

She couldn't have been more right…

…_Back in the Atlantis Dome, a few days prior…_

_His footfalls were noisy splashes in the sewers. _

_Within minutes, he arrived at a maintenance access point that led into the bowels of the museum. As soon as Cooper emerged in the doorway, a tremendous force struck him across his face. His feet came out from beneath his body and he collapsed to the ground with a groan. _

_The feminine voice held a tone of mockery. "The more I thought about it, Cooper, the more I realized that you'd come back here, so I thought I'd show up, first." _

_Sly sat up, his pride somewhat bruised. "Ow, geeze, Carmelita… a kick to the face?" _

_"Didn't see it coming, eh Master Thief?" She knelt down besides him then placed something metallic against the side of his head, just out of his line of vision. "What was it you said about not stealing during this 'mission' Sly? Could you just refresh my memory please?" _

_"Oh," Sly said, staying still. "You saw that, huh?" He felt the cool metallic sensation behind his ear; he wasn't sure just how angry she was but if she was pissed off enough to put a gun to his head then he was in far more trouble than he'd originally thought. _

_She wanted to use a chiding tone but ultimately decided on simple and stern. "Go on, you've got the floor, Mister Cooper." She pushed the metal barrel against his head, grinding it against his headfur. _

_"You want to lower that dangerous object from behind my ear?" Sly asked. She remained silent. He feigned an awkward chuckle. "Guess not, huh?" He then cleared his throat and told her, "If I tell you, we lose everything. Your promotion, Bentley and Penelope's job offer, Murray's car thing… the whole nine yards. With me so far?" _

_"If you complete all mission objectives," she replied. "Including the one where I'm supposed to be left in the dark concerning those five dead Navy Seals, right?" _

_"Exactly," Sly said, shifting his eyes up to meet her fiery gaze. "Looks like I failed that one, huh?" _

_Carmelita jabbed the metal barrel against his head, grinding it harder. "If you can't trust me with a little secret, I don't know how I can trust you with my whole heart, Sly." _

_"All right, it's time to be selfish," Sly replied flatly. _

_Carmelita shrugged. "Great, you're already the MVP of _that_ ballgame. Do what you know best." Her dark tendrils were tucked back behind her ears and shoulders so that her cold gaze cut into him, boring deep into the side of his head. _

_Sly continued. "I'll tell you everything so that everyone gains nothing." He cut his glance over at her again; she was silent, waiting for him to continue. He took a deep breath then said, "These guys stole an artifact that has to be returned. It's one of those principle thefts where the only way I felt I could make it right was by taking the object and returning it to their rightful owner." _

_"Aren't you sweet," Carmelita snorted. "Taking the Spearhead back to the Vatican. What a hero you are, Sly." _

_"Knew about that too, huh?" Sly blinked a bit then frowned. "You're way better than AJ gave ya credit for, Carmelita. It sounds like you know more about what's going on than I do." The raccoon reached his left paw up to run his fingers through his hair but Carmelita swatted his paw back down to his side with a growl. Sly then tried to play back on the buttons of old faithful. "You know what I miss most about you? The taste of your lips." _

_"You've deserved that," Carmelita replied. "You deserved all you could taste and then some," she added, pulling the metal barrel-shaped object away from the backside of his ear. She reached her left paw up to join her right and uncapped a long, chrome tube of lipstick then jammed it into Sly's mouth. "Oh my delicious lips, Sly. I taste'em all the damn time. Sweet words are a shovel with which you just keep digging… and digging." _

_Sly choked, trying not to retch. He lifted his paws up to brush away her tube of lipstick, then he stuck his tongue out, gagging at the taste of the makeup. Carmelita continued, "But you keep digging your own grave. Now, you've tasted 'my lips' so get back to the topic at hand." She sighed then added, "This is about far more than you stealing and lying about it." _

_"It is?" Sly looked dumbfounded. "Betrayal of your trust and how I've hurt your feelings by following orders and not telling you everything up front… That's what I've done and, you deserve to be upset about it. I just want to know how I can fix it… make it up to you…" _

_"Oh, I'm upset about those things," she replied, narrowing her eyes. "But you've lost your mission by failing your mission objectives. I now know everything the United States Government wanted you to hide… and …heck, I can't believe you actually put work before love; I'm deeply disappointed in you Sly." _

_"I see you're still wearing the ring, so all is not lost," Cooper noted. Carmelita suddenly lifted her left paw, using her thumb to turn the diamond downwards over her palm. She drew her open paw back which, he knew, would leave a deep scar. He turned his head, facing the palm of her elevated paw, head on. She kept her arm cocked, ready to slap him across the face with his own diamond ring but she couldn't bring herself to do such a vindictive act. _

_Carmelita sighed again. "I rushed into this; I let myself go and opened up," she told him. "I allowed myself to be happy and this is how you repay me. And do you know what's truly sick? I still have feelings towards you. Perhaps in time, those things will fade so I can move on… but you're my obsession. Dating doesn't just fulfill or kill that strange need… it only made the need worse. I'm utterly embarrassed, Sly Cooper. I'm not an idiot. Thinking that you could get away with this is just a slap to my ego. You're just a criminal; that's all you'll ever be." _

_"I'll always see us as something more," Sly replied. He sat up on his haunches and placed his forepaws on her face. She looked down, holding back tears. "Why're you crying?" _

_Carmelita pursed her lips together. A tear slid down her cheek, dancing across the strands of her facial fur. "I'm crying because hating you is the _only_ thing _harder_ than loving you." _

_Sly leaned forward to kiss her but she turned away. He slowly rose to his feet and offered her his paw. She ignored it. "Take my paw, please." _

_"Sly Cooper, please place your paws behind your back. You're under arrest…" She began. _

_He half-chuckled overtop of her words. "Are you serious?" _

_Carmelita continued, "…for the unlawful breaking and entering, as well as trespassing, upon private property. You're under arrest for…" _

_"You're joking right?" Sly asked. _

_She never stopped with the speech. "…the theft of private property or otherwise burglary of known items that were not initially in your possession. You are under arrest for…" the more Cooper tried to speak over her, the louder she read the rights to him. "…conspiring to unlawfully take possession of a National Treasure; premeditated burglary of a National Treasure," she continued without fail. _

_"Carmelita, you're being ridiculous!" Sly said defensively, causing her to raise her voice even louder. _

_"AND," she continued, taking a quick, deep breath, "For breaking your vows and MY HEART!" she concluded at the top of her lungs. She stood back up, reaching for the cuffs. Sly backed away from her and so she reached out to grab at his arm. _

_Cooper jerked his paw away from her. "If those men find all those artifacts, we're all going to die, Carmelita." _

_"SHUT UP, Cooper! Quit resisting arrest!" she snapped, reaching for his arm again. He evaded her paws, backing off slowly. "You have a lot of nerve, Sly Cooper. Did you or did you not steal that goddamn head of a spear? Confess your crimes, you lowlife!" _

_"Yes I did it!" Sly cried, still backing away from her. "But I was doing my job. No, I don't hold the value of that job over my vow to you, but you once told me that the only time I'm allowed to steal is when the entire world is in danger." _

_"Glad you're not lying," Carmelita began, approaching him slowly with the cuffs. "But if you bring all those parts together, you and your gang are only using crime to put the world into greater danger than it already is. Now place your paws behind your back and stop moving!" _

_"Carmelita, I love you," Sly replied, loudly. He still backed away from her but she still advanced on him with the handcuffs. "I know I hurt you and I'm sorry you saw the heist but you have to believe me …that my actions were based on helping to keep the world a better place; you have to hear me out, Carmelita!" _

_She suddenly swung the handcuffs at him in an attempt to strike his face. He dodged back a bit, narrowly missing the metallic link meant for his wrist. She then lashed out with her leg, trying to catch him with a roundhouse kick. Sly ducked it then placed his paws on her hips and shoved her down onto her butt. "Please baby," he said with a soft sigh. "I don't want this to be our first fight; I came back here to try and find you; I had to know you were safe and sound because I love and care about you." _

_Carmelita quickly got to her feet. "Shut up!" she shouted, kicking at him again. He used his right arm to fend off the glancing blow then batted her arm away when she tried to throw a punch at him. _

"_Will you cut that out?" he grumbled, shaking his head. She ignored him and continued building the intensity of their fighting. _

_"Will you cut that out?" cried Sly. In reply to his inquiry, she performed a jump kick, catching him in the shoulder. He toppled to the floor, rolling over twice and stopping on his stomach. He stayed down for a moment, using his peripheral vision to gauge her movements. He continued watching her out of the corner of his eye, staying motionless, looking defeated. She leaned down behind him, taking the cuffs and reaching for his arm. _

_He suddenly rolled onto his back, snatched her by the wrists and leaned up to kiss her. To his complete shock and dismay, for the first time ever she simply ignored it as if to suggest that it didn't even happen. She put a paw to his chest and shoved him to the ground, hard. Sly looked up at her with wide eyes, blinking rapidly. _

_"Stop making this harder than it already is," she grumbled, fumbling for his wrists. _

_Sly quickly rolled away from her and got his to his feet. She continued to approach him and so he decided to defend himself, dodging each left and right hook she threw his way. She continued to move closer and he began to evade the attacks by blocking them with his wrists and forearms. "You jerk, I'm wearing your ring!" she scolded him. "I'm supposed to marry you and now you've gone and changed everything!" she shouted between each jab she threw. "You've never changed, Cooper! Once a criminal always a criminal!" she said at the end, still throwing jabs with every word. Sly continued his evasive maneuvers, backing away from her. _

_She then drew her fist back, ready to haul off and nail him with all her might. As soon as she cocked her fist, he shifted his weight. No sooner did she throw a punch, Sly grabbed her arm and pivoted her entire body around. He then pinned her up against the wall and said, "Listen to me; even if my actions were bad, my intentions were good. IF you're going to fault me for trying to make a difference, I understand. But I cannot go to jail because I have to stop these people from finishing Clockwerk! I have to make the world a better place for our future family." _

_Carmelita lifted her leg, delivering a powerful kick to his hip. He groaned deeply; she went for a second kick but this time, he wrapped both of his arms around her knee and guided the woman to her back, flat on the floor. She then said, "Going to have another wild goose-chase, stealing everything in sight for several days straight, then lead everyone right to the whole collection? Gee, I seem to remember Clock-La at the end of your last major spree. Started in Cairo and ended in my helicopter. This time, you should just sit in my cell and let me take care of it. When the coast is clear, you're free to go." _

_Cooper shook his head incredulously. "Those people are going to find the pieces before I do and then it'll be too late. At least this way, I can definitely try to stop this from happening!" _

_She smirked. "It's time for jail, Mister Sly Cooper. C'mon, hard labor will make you a changed man…!" Carmelita still had a great deal of fight left in her. _

_Sly ducked her neck punch then rolled away from her. She reached into her coat pocket and that's when he began to run. He didn't want to fight her like this. She slowly withdrew the Shock Pistol… _

_Cooper snatched his cane off the floor and slammed the far end against the nearest wall, emitting a smoke screen which filled the hallway. Within a minute, the smoke began to clear, leaving Sly and Carmelita face to face with the gun on the floor under his foot. "You're being just like she said," Carmelita muttered. "Putting your work before your girl; really good when your girl is a cop, Cooper. If you bring all those parts together, someone will kill you, take them and, even if the Revelations don't happen, you'll be dead." _

_Sly smirked. "Not if I find them and re-hide each piece, one at a time." _

_To his words, Carmelita could only shake her head slowly. "I can't let you go after those artifacts; someone might follow you and pick up the pieces in your wake." _

_"I'm better than to be followed," Sly said; his voice full of self reassurance. "So, you've got an inside informant; female too, huh? I guess that means the rules have changed and it's time to avoid all the telemarketers again." _

_She quickly brought her knee up to his stomach. He doubled over and she brought her elbow down against the nape of his neck. Sly collapsed to the ground, taking a moment to recover from the blow. He rolled back over and kicked up in the air, knocking her back a few feet. She offered another roundhouse and he ducked beneath it. She would thrust, he would parry. _

_Cooper frowned, blocking her punches with his forearms. "How can I prove to you that I'm the man you believed I was as of this time, yesterday?" _

_"Go to jail, have a fair trial, let your defense lawyer prove you innocent," she said, adding, "or show me irrefutable proof. That you're not some common criminal scum who lies to women, gets close to them, then takes advantage of their situation. I can't believe you betrayed me." _

_"Carmelita, I love you," Sly protested. _

_"Sly, you love yourself," she shot back. _

_Sly ducked back, snatching his cane again. "I'm heading back to Washington DC to get that irrefutable proof. See ya soon, beautiful." He then slammed the bottom of the cane into the floor, between them. This time, when the smoke cleared, he was gone and her Shock Pistol lay on the floor at her feet. _

"…Betrayed me," she muttered under her breath a moment before sitting up in the leather seat at the back of the small jet. She turned her attention to the detective, sleeping in a reclining leather chair nearby. She couldn't believe she'd just been in two physical confrontations with her own fiancé. The emotional duress brought her to silent tears. Why couldn't she just have a normal relationship? Why did this whole thing have to be so damn difficult? Carmelita sighed again, shaking her head slowly. Hopefully she'd catch him in Russia and put him safely behind bars. It was the only way she could be sure that he wouldn't get himself killed.

The only thing that trumped her worry and love for him was her anger from the hurtful betrayal.

* * *

A/N: _I posted three times, a new story for CastleVania! I'm also going to hurry up and finish Reflections Of A New Generation before the new StarFox comes out for the Nintendo Wii. It's already in development _

_:D_

_I'm not ignoring this story, I'm just taking my time with it while I do ten other things. I'm also moving back to Maryland (Just south of Baltimore) tomorrow night, going into Monday morning. At any rate, I have to think about this story more before going much deeper into it. I have lots of ideas to get out on the StarFox one, so I might as well hammer it out and finish it real quick. I won't be long ;) _

_Any thoughts on the direction of THIS story, so far? _

_Let me know! _

_Hmm, I wonder just how injured Cooper really is, having been clipped by that bullet... just a flesh wound at most, I would think it just cut him... I'll have to think about it. Either way, I might write up a stitch scene or something... I dunno. Stuff! _

_-Kit_


	9. Box Therapy

Chapter -9-

Box Therapy

**Carmelita Fox stepped off the plane, looking out over the tarmac. **She turned to the raccoon at her side, Detective Maris Johnson, and then cut her eyes back to the limousine and police car, waiting for them. She furrowed her brows, glancing back at Johnson again.

"Do we really need a police escort?" Carmelita placed her paws on her hips. "That only draws attention."

"No, ma'am," Johnson replied. "_You_ draw attention. Every single time you chase Sly Cooper you blow things up and attract attention. My contact at the Kremlin says that they don't want you here, blowing up Volcanoes again. The limo is for me. The police car is _your_ ride. Don't worry; your hotel fare is practically free."

"Excuse me?" Carmelita gawked at him. Meanwhile, two Russian officers approached her. One produced a pair of handcuffs, the other had a handgun trained on her. "Are you kidding me?" she exclaimed.

Johnson stepped back, to let the officers do their job and said, "I'm afraid not; I'll need your help to get to the bottom of this and Sly Cooper isn't 'at the bottom' of this situation. When I piece this together, we'll all move on. This is Russia's compromise to allow you anywhere near the Kremlin. Deal with it or wait for me in Paris to finish my work. I'm a detective, I detect things."

"I'm not normally a racist woman," Carmelita muttered. "But I've yet to be double-crossed by one, dammit." She grumbled further, but kept her words beneath her breath as the two officers placed her into custody, taking her to the back seat of the police car. "This is crap."

The raccoon offered her a police smile, approaching the limousine. "But at least this way, I can allow you to be part of the case," Johnson replied.

"Screw you," she snapped. The back door of the police car was slammed in her face and she sat there, growling. After a moment, the police drove her back to a special holding cell. It was small, in a building not far from the precinct. There, she was released from the handcuffs and deposited into the cell. She was stripped, given a shower and dinner, then given thin orange pants and a matching blouse with house slippers.

From the tiny window at the back of the cell, she could see the large government building where Sly Cooper would surely be later that night. There was no bench, only a toilet, sink and strangely padded floor. It felt like walking across a mattress. Oddly, the cell was practically the size of a standard-sized bed. She slumped to the cushy floor padding and grumbled. "This cell is the size of my thumb."

The toilet was set back a bit in the wall, as was the sink, so as not to make things even more cramped; '_I can practically stretch out and touch all four walls_,' she thought to herself. In fact, she plopped down and tried it then furrowed her brow when she realized that she was right. She could touch all four walls by stretching out her arms and legs. There were concrete walls on all four sides. The door to her holding cell had a small window, about the size of her palm. She sat on the padded floor, drawing silent.

* * *

**Pacing the safe house, Sly Cooper's eyes flitted to his cohorts.** "The guards and the security is tighter outside the compound than it is, inside. It's like the Vatican. Once you're inside, security monitoring is about half the power used around the sixty foot wall. This is a tough one but I have an idea."

Bentley cocked his head, sitting in a parka on the sofa next to his wheelchair. Penelope and Murray remained silent. Bentley lifted his hand up and slid his fingers over his smooth jade-skinned head. "If you're thinking about attaching my stealth camouflage to your parasail, you can forget it. It uses fiber optic cameras to mirror the image over yourself. That high in the sky, you wouldn't get any images. You'd be a flashy looking blur and attract _more_ attention than normal."

"Are you done?" Sly asked with a grin. His smile broadened when Bentley nodded then the lithe raccoon announced, "I'll get arrested by the Federal Cops, taken _inside_ the compound, and escape the holding cell. Then I'll cross the courtyard and break in the old fashion way."

"What?" Bentley exclaimed, half jumping to his feet; if he had that ability, he surely would have done so. "Are you kidding? What if they realize who you are, or even worse, know what you're doing here, and chain you to a wall, where you can't even move? This is ludicrous!"

Cooper walked to the nearest window, opened it and picked up Bentley's unidirectional microphone. He pointed it across the street until the small speaker picked up American rap music. "No, that's Ludicrous; what I'm proposing we do is the only way to get inside the district compound. They _will_ realize who I am. They'll take me to a government holding facility behind the Kremlin and investigate my record, knowing I'm a wanted thief. At six in the morning, the shift supervisor will come in to work, pull up my record on file and see that all outstanding warrants against me have been dropped. I'll be released, an hour before the sun comes up, two hours before a security shift change which coincides with the Eight AM government officials coming in, sleepy eyed, starting their work day. I'll be finished the heist by Seven in the morning, hide out until Eight then slip out during the confusion, wearing business clothes with a briefcase."

Bentley simply stared at his friend for a moment. "Wait, how are you getting a hold of the briefcase and business attire?"

Sly closed the window and cast a dubious glance at the turtle. "Bentley…"

Murray turned to Bentley with a grin and announced, "He'll steal it; that's what he does."

Sly winked at his friend. "That's okay, even Einstein couldn't tie his own shoes or do first-grade arithmetic. Sometimes, the easiest answer is the best solution. I'll just let myself get caught being _too close_ to security. They'll identify and arrest me just incase. When I get out, like I said earlier, I'll still have an hour before the sun rises. At Seven AM, I'll be done and will hide out until Eight. It's easier than the alphabet backwards."

Penelope interjected with a question. "What if the morning shift supervisor takes a while to get to your file?"

"He's the one to process the arrest," Sly said, remembering what he'd had to learn as an Interpol Constable. "I'm a big name criminal and with Russia trying to do the Capitalism thing, he has an incentive bonus to get things done right away and he'll think that getting the credit for a big name Criminal will net him a big bonus. It'll be his first priority. If not, I can still pull the heist in half an hour. If things go _really_ sour, I'll eyeball things, do a little reconnaissance and we'll do the job _tomorrow_ night. So don't get so upset."

The turtle looked a little less nervous. "All right, I guess you're right," Bentley replied.

Sly snatched his cane off the wall, tossed it to Murray then said, "Don't lose that, big guy. I'll be back for it in the morning. You guys stop worrying and get some sleep." He turned for the door and slipped out, into the night. He dropped down the fire escape and took to the streets, heading for the large presidential compound at the heart of Moscow.

Sly found his way to the Moskva River and followed it to the large walls of the compound. He approached the very first guard, cleared his throat and, in his native French, said, "Is the President around? My name is Sly Cooper and I bring the gift of information from the American CIA."

The guard tilted his head, staring at Cooper uncomprehendingly. Sly closed his eyes for a moment, reached into his pocket for a small paperback book he secured at the airport, then lifted it up and gazed into it. After a moment of studying the translation guide, he said, "I am the world-famous thief, 'Sly Cooper' and wondered how much this 'citadel' costs. Could you answer my words of inquiry?"

His translation seemed a tad rough and his accent was very poor but the guard had no trouble grabbing Sly by his arm and pushing the raccoon up against the wall. Sly grinned inwardly, seeing how easy his plan worked. The translation guide found its way to the ground, forgotten in the scuffle.

* * *

**Carmelita didn't have enough room in the holding cell to pace** and because of that, she felt excessively bored. She felt unproductive and so she began doing sit-ups. The vixen wedged her toes beneath the door, crossed her paws at the nape of her neck and began her exercising. It didn't take long to break a sweat; it got her endorphins popping and helped to relax her mood.

Half an hour into her personal fitness program, the door to her holding room opened. Her feet, no longer wedged beneath the door, lifted and she flopped back, glaring up at the night watchman. He stepped aside and reached for something then jerked a male raccoon into the doorway. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open.

The guard shoved Sly into the small holding pen so that he lost his footing and threw his arms outwards to stop his fall. He collapsed on the padded ground, directly besides her, face down. The door slammed shut and the guard walked back down the hall. Silence returned.

Carmelita placed her paws on his shoulder and shoved him hard. He rolled over, looking up at her with a bemused smile. She could tell by the expression on his face that he most certainly did _not_ intend to see her in this jail cell. She then wrapped her paw around his throat and shoved him against the concrete wall, kneeling between his ankles. "What the hell are you doing? What is going on; you got _caught_? Are you really that dense or did you just slip up? You deserve slipping up; it was bound to catch up with you, sooner or later. Do you realize what kind of crap-storm you got me in, back in Langley? Oh, you have a _lot_ of explaining to do, Cooper. And you have a lot of sucking up to do if you want to keep me from pulverizing you, right now."

"Hi gorgeous." Sly smiled, glancing down at her wrist which disappeared beneath his muzzle. "You still wearing the ring?"

Carmelita drew her left paw back, displayed the ring melodramatically close to his eyes then said, "Start explaining, Ringtail, you dirty scoundrel."

"I goofed; it happens to the best of us," Sly replied. "They didn't catch me doing anything illegal, it was just one big misunderstanding and here I am for the night. Besides, it's cheaper than a hotel." He then grinned broadly and added, "And the accommodations cost less than a hotel, not to mention the company is divine."

"You…" Carmelita searched for the right insult. She just glared at the smiling criminal. Her jaw opened, waiting for the right word to pass over her tongue. Finally, she said, "…ass!" then gave him a shove and turned away from him in the tiny room.

Cooper placed his paws on her shoulders, kneeling behind her. He could feel how tense her muscles were and began to work his thumbs in, expertly handling her in his palms. Carmelita didn't respond. He continued to work his fingertips against her shoulders, pushing his palm in with a light grind against her tense flesh. Carmelita didn't flinch or say a word. He placed his thumbs against her upper spine and began to knead his fingertips into her shoulders, firmly.

Carmelita remained silent and so Sly paused. Her ears flattened in her hair and she told him, "If you stop, I'll beat you."

A broad grin returned to Sly's muzzle and he continued the firm yet tender ministrations. He pushed his fingers into the moist orange shirt, clinging to her shoulders and the fur of her back from the workout. He then leaned forward and brushed his lips against the side of her neck. His hot breath could be felt, tingling over her open pores. She shuttered then shrugged her shoulder up, trying to brush him away. "Quit it, Cooper."

"You're tense, Carmelita. I'm just trying to relax you." He crawled a bit closer to her then sat up high on his knees. She knelt in front of him and he leaned her forward, so that her bangs brushed against the mattress, pushing his paws against her shoulders again. For some reason, she allowed him to lean her over for a moment but it didn't last long. She soon sat up once more, then lifted her paw to brush his away.

"I was exercising, jerk," she muttered in reference to her moist shirt, placing her palm back against his chest. She gave him a light shove then folded her arms. "Why the hell are you in here?"

"You look like a fugitive, wearing an orange suit," Sly replied. He then lowered his eyes to the matching one that _he_ wore and asked, "The strip search was kind of weird. I understood the showering part but… eating your food _before_ being given clothes? That's just weird."

"It's so you don't hide utensils in your pants, dumbass," Carmelita grumbled. "You're given forks and knives to eat with, then they take'em away and give you clothes. If you were a dangerous felon, you might have hid something like that in your pants and used it on the guard at a later time. Stop being a sissy."

Sly tilted his head. "Boy, I'd love to have been your guard; can't say I'm not jealous though."

"Grow up; my handler was a female," Carmelita retorted, rolling her eyes. "Just as I'm sure yours was a male."

"No, mine was female too," Sly replied. He saw Carmelita's eyes widen slightly, then he smiled and said, "Just kidding. At least I know you were jealous for a second there."

Carmelita immediately became defensive. "I was _not_; they're professional guards who take their job seriously."

"Oh, no, your eyes got as wide as saucers," Sly replied boisterously. "That was absolutely adorable. I like knowing you're so possessive over me; it's hot, Inspector Fox."

"_Inspector Fox_, huh?" Carmelita narrowed her gaze then gave him another shove. "What the hell are you stealing anyhow? Do you think the President of Russia has information that the CIA _doesn't_ have?"

"I told you," Sly said with a shrug. "I'm putting computer viruses in their computers. These high-priority systems have direct access to the most classified and restricted archive servers in their respective countries. My target is wiping _those_ computers out until _no information_ on those artifacts remains. No theft. No stealing. I already know the locations. Making sure that no one else knows is _not_ stealing."

Carmelita opened her mouth to argue with him but nothing came out. After a moment, she simply said, "Technically speaking, you're right. There is no theft involved. But you're still breaking the law by infecting Superpower Intelligence archives. That could put both you _and_ Bentley behind bars for a _very_ long time." She frowned thoughtfully then suddenly smacked him across his face. Cooper either didn't see it coming, or he let it happen; she couldn't be sure which.

The raccoon barely flinched. "Ow. Your love taps sting a little more each time, honey," Sly said with a lopsided grin.

"That was for leaving me in Langley at the mercy of the police." Carmelita narrowed her eyes then added, "They arrested me and took me to Andrews Air Force Base. It was a total farce. Gee, vixen in a sneaking suit, chasing after raccoon with a gun; every guard in the world heard us and saw us; I don't care _what_ those security tapes show. You _had_ to know they would arrest me."

Sly leaned back against the wall, facing her on the small padded floor. "I don't know how to begin my apology. So let me tell you something I _do_ know… I love you."

Carmelita lifted both of her paws, closed her eyes and immediately told him, "Stop that!" She lowered her paws to her lap, sighed and asked, "Do you mean it?" Her amber gaze reflected the nod of his head. A gentle frown marred her features. "Prove it."

Sly lifted both of his paws, crossing his wrists, holding them out to her. "I surrender. I could be escaping right now like I always do, but I'm not. I'm sitting here, surrendering to you. I beseech your forgiveness and mercy." He then knelt down, placing his nose to the floor, in front of her knees, as if bowing to her. "I beg of you, your majesty!" And yet, his tone was that of incredible seriousness; sounding as though he were truly begging for his life to be spared. "Please, oh queen of the Latinas, have mercy on a wretch like me!"

"Oh geeze," she said, trying not to smile. "Okay, okay, stop Sly. You're convincing, just cut it out."

"Oh woe is me," Sly cried, bowing to her repeatedly. "For she is the tense queen; my charm and massages do not work on her powerfully sculpted muscles. How I wish I could be more like my Mistress, the master of the cosmos and ruler of my heart!"

Carmelita suddenly burst into a fit of giggles, shoving him again. "Oh, good grief, Cooper! Cut it out; we're both locked up in a Russian holding cell and you're acting like… like a big _goober_!"

Sly suddenly sat up, staring at her. "A _what_?" He broke into soft laughter as well, starting to grin.

Carmelita turned away, putting a paw over her face. "Oh my God, you're such a clown; I swear." She stood up, turned back to him and put her paws on her hips in an attempt to remain serious with him. "Listen, Sly… You blew me off in that dome and in Washington DC. You also stole, but something tells me that you actually believe that you did it in order to 'save the world' and I told you that was the only clause for defense of stealing. I'm sure that American Agent and their whole agency fooled you into thinking that you _were_ stealing to save the world. So answer me one question and I'll think about reducing your sentence."

Sly stood up, facing her in the tiny room. "Go ahead, ask."

"Where is your cane?" She refolded her arms again.

"I didn't bring it," he replied, employing his most honest tone. "I'm only here to give them a computer virus. I'll access their terminal, download the virus from a public CIA server, which is now infected, then I'll leave."

Carmelita glared at him. "God, you don't even feel guilty when you break the law, do you? Here you are, planning it like you're planning to walk to the store to buy milk and bread."

"That's what I'm going to call this job: Operation Milk and Bread." Sly gave her his cutest attempt at a dashing smile.

"You're a jerk," she huffed, unfolding her arms. "In fact, you're on my turf now," she said, shoving him against the wall again. "Jerk."

"You like it rough, huh?" Sly joked, playfully shoving her back. Before he realized what hit him, she utilized her defense training by grabbing his arm and spinning him around to the wall. She shoved him up against it and put her shoulder against his back, slamming him into the concrete.

"Maybe I do," Carmelita replied angrily into his ear.

Cooper quickly reached his free paw down to her arm and pushed in on her elbow in a pressure point. He spun her around, then himself, and put her flat against the concrete, careful not to shove her chest against the wall. "You taught me that maneuver, when I was Constable Cooper, remember?"

"Yeah?" she asked. "Did I teach you _this one_?" Carmelita kicked her foot between his ankles, flipped him off balance and spun him about, so that he was in the corner of the six foot by four foot room with his ankles spread. "That's the position you're going to take before I cuff you, so get used to it."

"I kinda like it," Sly retorted, quickly pushing off the wall. He put his foot up against the concrete in front of him then pushed off of his leg, flipping over her head. He landed on the padded floor behind her and snatched her wrists. He brought his elbows down into her ribs, causing her to flinch. In that instant, he forced her arms up, above her head then crisscrossed her wrists, pinning them to the concrete with his right palm. He used his left paw to mock-frisk her. "Got any concealed weapons, suspect? Maybe some undergarment support-wire?" His question appeared reminiscent of the time they were locked up in a storage room together, nearly two months ago.

Carmelita brought her elbow back into his gut, doubling him over. She then kicked his legs out and pounced him, pinning him to the padded floor. "No, they took that during the strip search, block head. Oh, how I've dreamt of pinning you down and slapping the cuffs on you." She had him down so that his paws were behind his back. She knelt on his legs to keep him from wiggling away.

Cooper wasn't beaten, however. He slid his tail between her legs, rubbing the thick, furry brush between her thighs, teasing her. His devilish trick caused her to gasp in alarm.

Her ears perked up and she flinched, shouting, "Sly Cooper! Just what do you think you're doing, Mister!"

Sly quickly wiggled his legs out from beneath her knees, having caught her off guard. He then flipped over, beneath her, sat up, captured both of her wrists, then pushed her down to her back, between his ankles. He leaned forward as if he were going to touch his toes, so that he was face to face with her in this awkward position. "Hi, beautiful."

She quickly opened her knees, lifted her legs and wrapped them around his upper back, pulling him forward a bit further. She then released him, tucked her legs up to her chest then kicked them outwards, launching him up against the wall. She didn't have enough room to perform a kippup and so she rolled over and quickly got to her feet. Before he could move, she put her foot up on the wall directly in front of her face and pushed off of it. Her shoulder collided with his chest, sandwiching him to the concrete. "Hold still, you scoundrel!"

Sly wrapped his arms around her and she doubled over, flipping him overtop of her. His legs hit the wall of the absolutely tiny cell and he landed on his back directly in front of her with his legs sticking straight up against the wall. It looked as though he was sitting on the concrete bulkhead but the true direction of gravity argued otherwise.

Cooper arched his back hard, kicking his legs back towards his head. He rolled backwards and came to a crouching position with his back against the other wall in the tiny room. She turned about, reached for the orange shirt, grabbing for his shoulders. She then shifted her weight and slammed him into the center of the padded floor.

Sly reached up, grasped her arms and kicked at her knees. She fell directly on top of him. He then put his foot up on the nearest wall and pushed off of it, rolling over until _he_ was on top of _her_. Before she could wiggle free, he leaned his head down and pressed his lips against her own, kissing her deeply.

She instinctively lifted her paws to grasp at either side of his face but suddenly melted into the kiss, instead using her paws to pull him closer. His head tilted, his lips slanting over her soft tiers. His paws lifted, sliding through the locks of her dark hair, up over her thick indigo tresses then cupping his palms behind her head.

The vixen's kiss immediately intensified, grinding her passion-bruised mouth against his muzzle. Her tongue slid across his lips, painting them with the tip until his lips parted. Her soft, velveteen tongue demanded access, slid forth then began a duel with his tongue. It turned into a dance when the pink mate returned play; the tasteful kiss turning to hungry bliss. Her fervor matched his and she moaned softly, muffled by the intensity of their physical sharing.

Her paws slipped from his cheeks and reached down to his chest, clinching her fingertips around the fabric. She pulled hard and the buttons gave way. Her exploring touch came to his chest fur, sifting through it. The tips of her dexterous digits moved over his sculpted, tight chest, moving down over his washboard stomach. She didn't think or feel; she only acted out of impulse and instinct. Her heart was pounding and she felt the need to gasp in pleasure.

Her paws lifted once more, grasping at his face and pulling his head away so that she could pant. Her touch instinctively guided his head down and his lips met passionately against her jaw. Her back arched up, pressing her torso to his. Hot breath and firmly plying lips made their way down the line of her jaw until he began nibbling on the bottom of her muzzle. He then lifted his head, took a deep breath of air then dropped his head once more. His lips crashed against her neck, suckling softly with needy abandon.

Her chin rested upon his head, between his ears, moaning the words, "Oh my _God_." She took a moment to pant then added, "I can't _believe_ you…!" Despite her words, she lifted her paws to his shoulders, pulling the unbuttoned shirt from his arms. Cooper's paws lifted outwards, helping her to strip him of his shirt. She then tossed it aside and gently raked her fingers over his back, clinging to his body. "You'd better not let this go _too_ far; I refuse to lose my virginity in a jail cell in _Russia_, dammit…"

Coopers kisses trailed down to her collarbone. His paws moved to her waist then sifted up through the soft fur on her tummy, beneath her shirt. He then gripped at the fastenings from inside out and pulled them until the buttons popped from their threads. He continued maneuvering his lips down over her flesh and fur, nipping and suckling at her sensitive skin. A fire burned in her body, yearning for this man – her mate.

The brush of his whiskers over the swelling globes of flesh caused her to shutter again. Pert cherries begging for attention became gratified by soft lips and a kneading paw. Her eyes crossed and the panting never ceased. She reached for his head again, drawing him to her body with need and adoration. Love filled her bosom and her heart sang out to him. And yet that fire; her ache and need, cried out to his body and his senses, assaulting them with her desire.

Sly continued to place loving kisses over her tummy, nibbling so very gently and yet adding a hint of playfulness. He worked lowered over her torso, treading into sacred territory; where he'd journeyed in their shower together, the night he proposed to her. She kicked her legs to help him get rid of that suddenly chafing fabric. Her paws slid down to the back of his head once more and then she gasped; her jaw parted, her beautiful brown eyes rolled back into her head and a long, slow groan rolled out from the back of her throat…

* * *

**Several hours passed and the two lovers lay together**, devoid of garment. Her head rested upon his chest, snuggled up against him with his arm draped around her shoulders. She'd fallen for him all over again and the musk of love filled the air. Sly kept his promise to her and _didn't_ let their passion go '_too far_'. And yet, the two mates found other ways to please one another; Sly was now content to hold her in his embrace. The incredible scope and depth of his love for her seemed far more powerful than even the simple raccoon had realized. He felt humble for the first time in ages.

How could he leave her at six in the morning? He knew that she wouldn't go with him to break another law… yet he already told her what he planned to do… She slumbered peacefully, curled up beneath his arm, her right ear pressed against his chest. The contented little vixen slept to the beating of his heart. His eyes lifted, looking out through the small window in the wall behind them.

He saw the clock, upside-down, from his position on the floor and took a moment to translate the inverted clock and inverted Roman numeral digits. Four AM; he still had two hours before he would be released. They had rested there on the padded floor for six hours, together. Carmelita began to stir, sifting her fingers through the silky fur on his tummy.

She enjoyed the way it felt between her fingers. Her red-lacquered nails began to wiggle down into his furry belly, scritching gently. Sly sighed happily and whispered, "Belly scritchies are the _best_." To his words, her muzzle tugged into a grin.

A playful, yet serious threat was the reply. "You do realize… if you betray me again, I'll have to kick your tail." Her warning made him grin just a bit.

Cooper cleared his throat then asked, "Like you man-handled me, earlier?"

"Oh no, far worse," she replied. "If you don't marry me, I'll beat you up." Her words became muffled against his chest. After another moment, she rolled over to face him, looking down into the mocha orbs of her obsession. She pressed her lips to his once more, indulging in another kiss.

Sly lifted his free paw and placed it on her lower back. His firm, masculine touch excited her again, gliding down over her curvaceous rump. Her tail curled around his wrist and part of his arm, draping the rest of that large furry pillow on the floor. Her kisses assaulted his senses and meshed to his lips. The age old rhythm of their pounding hearts began again, with only two hours before the security shift change.

"I can't believe this," she said, muffled against his mouth, "I can't get enough of you; I'm obsessed. This can't be healthy…" But instead of breaking the kiss, she deepened it as she'd done earlier. She kissed him as if it held the cure to her fever of need and ache of desire. Her tongue withdrew then she closed her teeth gently over his bottom lip, suckling it into her mouth.

She knew, in this moment, she couldn't get enough of her obsession. Her paws roamed over him; the fiery Latin vixen portrayed herself to Sly as a woman prone to the power of romance. Right now, she didn't _care_ how she appeared; she wore his ring and that gave her the right to want the man, criminal or not. No matter how much she loved or hated him, she obsessed over him, totally and completely.

Everything she touched she now owned. Her fingers stroked down over his knees, which helped him to run from her. She then trailed her fingers upwards over his powerful, masculine thighs, which helped him to elude her by jumping to greater heights. Up, over his chest and down one of his arms; he'd used them to swing the cane that aided in his thefts. She then captured his paw in her own; capturing the fingers that dexterously captured stolen items, ultimately bringing them together in the end. She owned every inch of his body and cosseted herself in touching her prized possession. Her indulgence consumed her.

It was like tasting her favorite flavor of ice cream, licking every spoonful and yet never getting an upset stomach after consuming an unhealthy amount. Sly was her guilty pleasure and now their pleasure was real, tangible and completely emotional. Of course his lavish physical ministrations bridged the gap between the need in her body and the hunger in her heart.

She locked her heart away from him, and with ease, Sly Cooper picked the lock and stole her breath right from her chest. Truly, he was a master thief and she was in love. And a small part of her hated herself for adoring him… the same part of her that begged him _not_ to keep betraying her. She lived for these moments with him and didn't want to sully or defile the purity of her love.

This time, her method of begging for his faithfulness came in the delivery of soft cries of ecstasy. They ravaged one another for the next hour and a half until she slipped back into the depths of blissful unconsciousness once again. Once their second wind of romance came to its euphoric, climatic conclusion, Sly rolled her onto her side and dressed her. He then dressed himself and looked up, just in time for the morning watchman to open the door to the holding room.

Sly hooked a thumb at the sleeping Carmelita and placed his finger to his lips, signaling to the guard to remain quiet. He stepped over her and into the hallway then waited as the guard shut the door and locked it. Sly followed him down to processing without handcuffs. With the help of an on-duty translator, he explained to the morning guard that he didn't know Russian and simply asked where he was and told the guard his name.

Let down by the fact that all known searches for Sly Cooper turned up free of any outstanding warrants, the disappointed guard told Sly to leave on his own recognizance. Cooper was offered a shower, breakfast, then changed into his clothes and left. As he walked outside, his eyes flitted to the clock on the post, behind the holding building.

"Only quarter after six," Sly mused aloud. "I must say, I impress myself." He then grinned brightly and headed across the compound, slipping into an alley between two fancy cathedrals. Getting inside was actually the easy part. He lived for this stuff and took to a storm drain, heading up to the third floor. Sly Cooper was many things, including a master at illegal entry.

'_Now to finish my business with these computers and leave. If I'm lucky, I can go in and visit Carmelita at about Eight-Thirty,_' he thought with a smile.

By Eight-Thirty, Sly returned to the holding cell in a business suit with a briefcase. He became dismayed to find out that there was absolutely no visitation with National Prisoners in holding and so he began his short trek back through Moscow. Inside the briefcase, he had his other set of clothes. The brisk morning air helped to make the raccoon fully alert and awake but his body wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep in the back of Murray's van on the way out of Russia.

A slight frown touched his muzzle at the reminder that Murray's van had been destroyed. No, he'd have to sleep in the back of something else on the way back to Paris. But one thing was sure: Sly had something to think about when he would close his eyes later. Leaving the Kremlin, he knelt down and picked up his Russian translation booklet.

Sly carried the book and the briefcase back to the Safe House, climbing up the fire escape and slipping in through the window.

Bentley sat up on a cot, reaching for his glasses. He pulled them on then, in a tired voice, asked, "How'd the mission go?"

Sly's eyes look tired but his facial expression hinted to pure satisfaction, leaving Bentley to assume he was overly-pleased with his handiwork. "It went like a dream. In fact, it went so well that I'm exhausted. I think that was, without a doubt, the best mission stakeout I've ever had. Let's go home."

"We've been waiting all night incase you returned early," Bentley said, adding, "Something has come up… Some of the artifacts are starting to show up in the news… as _stolen_." Bentley handed Sly the morning paper, showing him the front page article. It was a photograph of an empty display case in what appeared to be a museum. Sly couldn't read the Russian text but the photograph was convincing enough to share in Bentley's worry.

* * *

A/N: _Dun, dun, DUNNNN! Okay, so, I know I said I was going to take a short break and write more StarFox but… I had writer's block tonight. Then, I talked to Robert Brown (Proforce) on AIM a few hours ago… and, in reference to this story, he said, "Box Therapy." I asked for clarification by saying, "You mean Sly and Carmelita in a cell together?" …He said, "You catch on fast." _

_So, of course, I named the chapter after his suggestion. Thanks bro! _

_I may not have gotten anymore StarFox written tonight, but at least I was productive in writing! So, readers, tell me… was it TOO steamy? Should I change the rating? There are no explicit or intensely graphic penetration scenes, which isn't permitted on Fan Fiction ANYhow (We gotta save that kinda writing for AdultFanFictionNET, lol). Still, should I knock up the rating? Lol, pun intended, of course. _

_Also, did anyone swoon or fan themselves over these two making out? We'll get back to the nitty gritty action and suspense and all the things that blow up in the next chapter, I'm fairly sure. Carmelita will chase Sly all over the world to recover these artifacts… or rather, the ones that haven't yet been stolen. _

_So, tune in next chapter for…_ CHAPTER TEN: "The Chapter Where Kit Writes About Stuff That Goes BOOM"

:-D


	10. Bigger Than the Both of Us

Chapter -10-  
"Bigger Than the Both of Us"

**Carmelita returned to Paris**, fighting her mixed emotions. She sat in the back of a bus, heading for the police department. The bus proceeded beneath the Arc dTriomphe war memorial, traveling towards downtown. The large intersection split to the left and right; her bus took the major highway on the left hand side, with the growing buildings looming in the skyline ahead.

A sign, reading "FRA 192, Champs Elysees Avenue" passed over the bus. It continued down to the commercial district where the secondary debriefing would occur. She glanced down from the window, gazing fondly upon the diamond ring on her left paw. Wearing it felt bittersweet; Carmelita smiled a bit then gazed back to the window, watching the gray and white structures float by. To the right, a large single white building stood out in the middle of the section.

In the distance, large buildings grew in size. The commercial district rolled towards them, where the bus gave her the otherwise odd sensation of sitting still. The row of buildings passed before her eyes and yet everything felt motionless. She sat there, on the bus seat, in a trance. Part of her mind remained in that tiny cell in Moscow, Russia. Part of her heart remained in Sly Cooper's embrace.

He got away. She failed her mission to stop him from contaminating the computer servers and yet no one even knew he'd done it. French Intelligence either denied they knew what he was up to, or they hid it from her. They weren't helping Interpol and Interpol wasn't helping _her_. Her attention became averted by someone who settled down besides her.

"Carmelita Fox?" asked a female chipmunk with brilliant green eyes. She offered a paw.

Carmelita glanced at the woman out the corner of her eye then slid her paw into the other woman's paw. "Can I help you?"

The woman got right to the point. "I work for the DGES and was looking to garnish some information before Interpol can directly order your secrecy."

Carmelita turned to face the woman, blinking in surprise. "And how do you know they're going to order my silence. Also, why would you tell me that they plan to order my silence when you know I cannot or will not talk if I have any reason to believe they wouldn't want such?"

"So you can start doing what you do best." The lady released the vixen's paw then said, "If you're given enough clues, you'll solve this on your own. My father worked his entire life for the SDECE, just like your father was an international police officer _his_ whole life. We have a great deal in common, Miss Fox." She then lifted her left paw and showed the Inspector an engagement ring. "He's a retired spy but lost the desire to continue in the field of espionage after I talked sense into him."

Carmelita nodded slowly. "You've found a lot of parallels between us." She paused then placed her paws upon her lap and added, "Which means you've read my profile; you even know of current events in my life. Why are you trailing me?"

"We're tracking Mister Cooper," the woman explained. "We're doing it to evaluate the progress concerning his old arch-nemesis."

"You've got me at a disadvantage, miss…?"

Carmelita found her question ignored. The woman smiled, hiding her paws beneath her long coat. "An agent. I'm not at liberty, nor am I cleared to grant you information. I wish I could help, but that doesn't mean I can't throw you a few clues."

"All right, I know Cooper was in Russia yesterday; he broke in, toyed with some computers and left. Now, what do _you_ have?"

The girl frowned then leaned in, whispering into Carmelita's ear. "Clockwerk is on some sort of rampage." She glanced over her shoulder then leaned back to Carmelita's ear and said, "His hardware was removed from his current body and he was placed into a secondary build. No one foresaw his cunning. He escaped, with the intent of harming Mister Cooper, getting his large body back and making life difficult for everyone."

"Last I saw him, he wasn't going anywhere," Carmelita replied. "He was chained down and in no condition to cause trouble."

"He was switched into a small body; the large one is being reserved for some sort of presence… However, utilizing his small body, Clockwerk escaped the dome. He's small enough to blend in and yet he's on the warpath. I'm here to discourage you from arriving at the secondary Interpol building in the downtown area."

Carmelita balked at the suggestion; "I've been ordered to report for a special debriefing."

"You're being ordered to go down there, receive strict orders to stay away from Sly Cooper and Clockwerk and 'sit tight' until everything is over. They feel your personal involvement will jeopardize the case." The chipmunk glanced about, furtively, then said, "Don't go. There is a very real probability that you will be injured severely. Our lab rats, pardon the pun, are working on a mathematical formula that should help them to second-guess Clockwerk and stay one step ahead of this new source of Artificial Intelligence. They're convinced that your current destination is a hazard."

Carmelita's expression showed that she didn't buy the story. "That's absurd. No one has the audacity to attack the Interpol building." She turned to face the chipmunk, looking the woman over. She tilted her head a bit and asked, "Do I know you? You seem familiar for some reason."

"We've never met," said the woman. "This includes today," she added, standing up slowly. "Think about it. When you arrive at your destination, look up at that tall building and ask yourself how effectively you'll be able to complete your job if you've died in an attack…?" She began to walk to the back of the bus. Carmelita glanced over the backrest, watching her leave.

'_There is something familiar about her but, I don't know any other chipmunks. Her tail looks binded down, beneath her long coat and her shirt seemed tight, regardless of her medium build, average cup-size and overly-green eyes.' _She paused to consider the woman's advice then slumped back in her bus seat with a sigh. The bus arrived at her destination spot and the vixen stood up, walked to the front end of the bus and departed, quietly.

Normally, Carmelita was the kind of woman to investigate the woman's claim, right away. Then again, it wasn't every day the tired woman found herself following strict orders to report to the downtown department for a debriefing session. And yet the woman's strange warning continued to reply in her mind. Carmelita crossed the street, when the traffic permitted, and sat down on a bench, looking up at the tall building before her.

She couldn't bring herself to go inside just yet… Every thread of instinct in her body told her that she needed to sit down and think about the chipmunk's claim. Carmelita's stomach ached and her shoulders slumped. She wasn't quite sure why she was tired but she couldn't get the strange woman's words out of her brain… '_We never met; this includes today,'_ said the lady, on the bus.

Would the building really come under attack? So many movies had romanticized a building attack. They were all scripted as if it was the only building in the world to ever receive an attack or have heroes trying to save the people inside. Whether by fire, plane or bombs, the plot remained the same to her: the good guys tried to rescue people, got trapped and had some sort of struggle, then safely made it out. They were always alive.

How many of those movies had a plotline based on people escaping a war-torn building in downtown Baghdad or in the Second World War of Japan? She tightened her fists in thought for a moment then cleared her head by shaking it. The flash of a passing shadow grabbed her attention and she gazed up just in time to see something horrible…

Back in the Atlantis Dome, she had seen Clockwerk chained down next to a man-sized version of the owl's body. That very same 'small' version of Clockwerk streaked across the sky, here and now; his shadow passed over her in a brief instant. Her sharp eyes made out the round ovular shape of two objects beneath his wings.

Clockwerk's body shuttered as it approached the building by air. The two ovular objects tumbled from beneath his wings. The lethal payload fell from the sky and his body reacted, building into a tight vertical climb. He retreated into the sky; the two cylinder pieces continued to fall. One of them struck a window, about halfway up the building. The other continued all the way to the ground, smashing in through the main entrance on the east side of the building.

Carmelita couldn't even blink; a massive duel explosion came next. The one from the first bomb caused a massive blast on the ninth floor. The explosion jutted outwards on the eastern side. The second bomb exploded simultaneously, demolishing the building's lobby entrance. She would have been standing in front of the elevator had she gone inside… The bomb would have detonated right in her face and she would surly be dead.

Part of her felt guilty to have survived; the other part of her couldn't react at all, due to the shock. Carmelita's jaw dropped. Her heart ached. Her mind raced.

Sections of concrete tumbled from above. A distorted oak desk slammed down upon the roof of a car in the middle of the road. Carmelita watched in horror as the car spun out of control, striking another which jolted up onto the sidewalk, before her. She dove from her corrugated seat but the car never reached that bench. Another chunk of concrete crashed to the ground, causing people to scream in panic. The Inspector suddenly felt disoriented.

The screaming sounded far away; her vision blurred and a high pitched ringing made her feel off balance. Carmelita reached her paws outwards, subconsciously realizing that she lay on her back, looking straight up at the skyscraper. It swayed slightly, high above, from the power of the attacks. Papers and plaster rained from sky, like the ashes from a nuclear attack. Of course, no flash meant there would be no nuclear reaction but just the same, it felt oddly reminiscent of such a horrible attack.

All around her, people ran in terror, screaming in shock. The sensation of slow motion and disorientation continued. She couldn't yet wake up from it. The ground-level explosion caused a car on that side of the street to explode. The gas tank, beneath the trunk, ruptured and threw the car upwards, end over end, so that it landed inverted on the convertible in front of it. Debris rained down from above; the exploded vehicle, parts of the building…

Carmelita slowly got to her feet, just in time for both bombs to go into their second-stage high-yield thermal detonation. The one that burst on the ground level launched her into the air, from all the way across the busy avenue. She flew back from the sidewalk and bowled over a fleeing pedestrian that exited the building behind her. Both of them flew in through the main doors of the large office building across from Interpol. They lay there, on the floor with her on top of him. Glass fell all around them and she rolled over, onto her stomach, to protect the bystander.

Her tail curled up over her paws and her head. When she finally sat up, she was covered in cuts and bruises but nothing serious. The man, beneath her, sat up in confusion. He saw that she'd covered him with her body from the falling glass and blinked at her. Carmelita placed her left paw on his chest and shouted, "It's okay; you're safe! I'm a police officer. Go! Get out of here!" to him. Behind her, the building across the street became engulfed in flames. The fire consumed the first three stories of the building in seconds from the special fuel used in the bombs.

A strong paw snatched Carmelita by her collar and she felt herself lifted to her feet. Glass rolled off of her shoulders and back, tinkling to the ground. She glanced over her shoulder, only to realize a uniformed local authority police officer had helped her up. The radio on his uniform was abuzz with chatter that the Paris Hall of Justice had been struck by what appeared to be a small aircraft, the size of a person.

Carmelita, still in shock, couldn't yet make the connection to realize that Clockwerk, in his small form, attacked Paris, France. The man that helped her, a marmoset, said, "They hit the headquarters of the Republican Guard; this has become a military operation now. France _must_ be under attack; they're striking strategic locations!"

Suddenly, the adrenaline hit her bloodstream and her mind cleared. Everything clicked into place and she shouted, "It was Clockwerk! He's delivering personal payload ordinance; he must be stopped! The military has the best chance of shooting him down; we have to help evacuate _that_ building," she said, pointing across the street. "Leave Clockwerk to the _Armée de l'Air,_" she said, nearly muttering. A Eurocopter Super Puma raced by, above them. The chopper's rotor noise quickly faded, eclipsed by the ambient noise of screaming and fleeing ground traffic.

Two black fighters, the French Dassault Rafale, followed by lightweight Saab Gripen fighters, passed overhead. One of the four fighters released an air-to-air missile from beneath its wings which screamed by; silence resumed for a moment. Carmelita turned back to the other officer, blinking rapidly. "It certainly feels like we're at war, doesn't it?" She gave a tug on the ape's wrist and said, "C'mon! There are people trapped in there! You'll see your share of warplanes at the next air show!" And the two dashed across the street, heading for the Interpol building.

Directly overhead, the sleek frame of an Ecuadorian Mirage F1JA raced by; launching into mach speed with a punch from its afterburners. Carmelita pinned her palms to her ears, groaning in pain over the noise of a sonic boom. Two 30mm forward mounted guns opened fire at whatever targets the pilot apparently had it his or her reticule. Eighteen hundred rounds per minute roared from the guns and yet the noise quickly faded as the jet disappeared from the skyline at an incredible rate of speed.

"That idiot has gone _too far_," Carmelita muttered beneath her breath. She knew that Clockwerk, especially in the smaller body, would be no match for multiple jet fighters or the elite French Air Force. The two officers made their way to the backside of the building. A lobby guard lay flat on his face, holding a FAMAS rifle. She knelt besides the man and checked his pulse. Her eyes lifted to the marmoset and she clearly announced, "He's dead. Let's go." The two made their way for the stairs.

Debris lined the floor; glass and a thick coating of dust gave way to their footprints. The ape placed his paw on her shoulder, stopping her at the bottom of the stairs. "We're first responders; one of us should wait here incase the fire department shows up."

"Okay, watch your back, down here," Carmelita said, turning back to the stairs.

"No, I'll go," said the officer.

"The hell you will," Carmelita argued in protest. "I'm Interpol; this is an Interpol building. I should go."

The marmoset shook his head vehemently. "If something happens to me, I'll need you to save us both… and everyone upstairs. Please; I have to do this… my wife is a secretary on the seventh floor. I have to go, she's four months pregnant and we can't _both_ go, before the fire department gets here. Besides, someone has to stay behind to direct evacuees to the rear exit."

Carmelita opened her mouth to argue but the conviction in the man's eyes touched her heart. "…Go. Good luck up there," she said, stepping out of his way. He dashed up the steps and disappeared. She turned back to the lobby and ran to the main desk. Carmelita snatched an emergency telephone from the counter cradle and dialed the emergency services. After a moment, a panicked operator picked up.

"This is Inspector Carmelita M. Fox of Interpol." She quickly rattled off the address then added, "We've been hit by what appears to be two large bombs. There are fires on the far end of the first floor and seem to be spreading up the Eastside of the building. I have trapped people here and require immediate fire and rescue services."

The operator sounded rattled. "Ma'am, we're stretched thin; we're doing the best we can. I've added your address to the list but I don't know how long it will take."

"These are officers of the law," Carmelita snapped. "Has the guard been deployed?"

The operator took a deep breath then said, "The guard and local military authorities _have_ been dispatched to deal with the medical situation, Inspector. They're on their way. Please, just sit tight. Please don't panic; it seems as though only police and justice departments have been targeted. Also, the-"

Carmelita blinked, double tapping the receiver switch. She then finished the sentence over the silent phone line. "…Line went dead. Crap, crap, crap!" She tossed the receiver to the desk and shuttered hard, hearing a thunderous noise outside. Her jaw quivered for a moment and her eyes widened. "God, I hope that was a part of the building and not… a jumper." Her stomach began to ache again. "Please, don't let that noise be a body."

A few moments later, the marmoset returned with his wife and four other survivors. Everyone appeared to be covered in soot and one of the people in the group seemed to have more glass injuries than Carmelita. She raced over to the stairs, helping to guide them towards the rear exit. "The fire hasn't spread to this section of the lobby yet. Hurry, quick. The Fire Department has their paws full so we're not at the top of their list."

"You go next," the marmoset replied, panting softly. "It's hard to breathe up there; take a respirator or see if there are oxygen tanks in the supply room."

"Right," Carmelita replied, dashing into the gear office, behind the main desk. When she reemerged, she noticed another one of the black-painted Rafale fighters zip by at nearly street level. She semi-winced; being a pilot herself, she knew a little about the fighter planes… "Forty-eight million euros will probably get wasted on having a _car_ _accident_ at one-and-a-half Mach speed; what are those meatheads thinking?" A multi-channel military radio at the front desk began to come alive with fighter chatter…

"Fox Two," said one of the pilots, "Fox Two away," they repeated.

The reply seemed to have come from any other jet or possibly the command center. "Good kill, good kill! Wait; bravo, that thing doesn't have a heat signature or rear-mounted engine boosters! Your sidewinder missile is snaking back around; pull up!"

The pilot sounded on the edge of his seat. "I've got climb but it's behind Talos; he's … he's shaking it… Good Split-S, Talos. That missile is… oh my God…" His voice changed then he shouted, "It's headed straight into that burning building! Goddamn Heat Seeker!"

Carmelita's soft brown eyes lifted, just in time to catch a shadow flit by the front of the lobby at two and a half times the speed of sound. The nine foot long tube slammed into the west wall and the twenty pound annular warhead on the front exploded. The blast-frag compound sent intense fragmented components outwards, destabilizing the west wall. The explosion rocked the lobby, causing the entire first floor to collapse. Everyone in the room dove for cover, starting with Carmelita Fox who tumbled beneath the desk.

Silence ensued; several minutes passed before the shock wore off. The dazed vixen shook her head, wondering if she'd passed out for a few minutes. Everything felt fuzzy and she decided it was difficult to tell how long it had been since the missile's impact. Carmelita, safe beneath the desk, pulled part of her shirt up over her muzzle, using the cloth as a respirator. She reached her paw out, after a few minutes, testing the radio on the desk. All the equipment on top of the desk had been crushed. She called out, "Is everyone okay?"

The marmoset called back in a weary voice, "I'm here. My wife is fine; she's fainted. One of the people who came down the stairs with me… they're gone. Another one may not make it much longer. You okay, Inspector?"

"I'm… yeah; I'm fine, Officer." Carmelita's ears laid flat and she coughed into her shirt. "When I heard the brevity code for that heat seeker over the radio… then they said it was heading for a burning building… I followed my gut and dove beneath the table."

"Smart. Know your weapons, do you?"

"Yeah…" Carmelita began working on moving rubble; she wanted to dig herself out and get to her feet. "The missile took out the west wall. I saw it pass through the lobby. There's a sky-bridge on the fourth story of this building, on the west wall, that heads to another building across the street. Without the west facing support, this building will probably collapse soon."

Almost immediately, the man began praying or speaking some sort of Christian hymn. Carmelita gave him a moment to be personal then asked, "Can you move?"

"I need help moving this block," came his reply. "I should be just fine. Nothing is broken; it landed around my shin and I can't move my foot or pull it free. We might be stuck here for a while, especially if the building comes down."

Carmelita groaned, trying to dig herself out from beneath the desk. "Who'd have thought a ninety kilogram metal tube could collapse part of a building, huh?" She got no response then said, "Don't pass out on me, officer. You all right over there?"

"I'm here," he grumbled. "Talk to me, it helps me stay awake over here…" Beyond their voices, the collapsed section of the building seemed dead with silence. No one moved on the first floor and everything outside became distant, like another universe. It was just them, the silence and the dust. The officer had taken a hit to the head and struggled not to waver in and out of consciousness.

Carmelita continued to try and rearrange the rocky debris, still trapped beneath the strong desk. She felt lucky that she'd had it to save her. "I'm not much of a conversationalist when it comes to chit-chat topics."

"How'd you get interested in becoming an Inspector?" His question made her smile, albeit slightly.

"When I was a little girl, I grew up wanting to see the good guy solve a case." She coughed into her shirt then continued. "I watched Colombo, Chips, Starsky and Hutch… even Matlock. I was a fan of a show called Dragnet and I liked reading Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys and Sherlock Holmes. Daddy said it was in my blood because he was a third generation cop. I always got excited at the prospect of seeing justice served, no matter how hokey the story line or the acting of the show. I guess it's because of who I am. I'm almost clear, by the way. I should be free in a moment."

The marmoset replied, "I actually became a cop because my wife was teaching at the time and I wanted something equally respectful for a career. I walked the beat and did traffic for the first two years but I really enjoyed the prospect of providing security to my community. It grew on me and my Lieutenant was really good so… I stuck with it. For me, this is just a job. I hate it some days and I love it on some days. It's far more tolerable than working a register or working in a cubical but… There are some days I just hate getting up in the morning. Who wants to wear a gun to work _every_ day? If I knew I was going to be buried under concrete today, I'd have called in sick."

"Not me," Carmelita said, using her legs to push away some of the rocks that kept her from being able to escape beneath the desk. She shoved away the loose rocks then worked to wiggle out through the gap she'd made for herself. "You can't get the excitement of being attacked by Clockwerk if you operate a cash register or push a pen." She managed to pull herself up on top of the desk. She felt good to stretch her legs and pulled herself up onto the rubble, panting softly. "I'm out. Where are you, call for me or talk so I can hear which way you are."

"I'm over here," replied the man. "This way; over here!"

Soft vibrations in the concrete caused her tail to bristle up with worry. Carmelita followed his voice and found the concrete slab that pinned his leg. She couldn't lift it on her own, let alone budge it, so she climbed back towards the storage room. "Stay awake; I'll find something I can use to pry this thing off."

She climbed over the overturned desks and rubble from the above section that collapsed in on itself. The ceiling reached two stories high in some sections. She finally made it to the storeroom and used her shoulder to open the door. She spilled down into the room and began to look for something worthy of prying the concrete slab from the man's leg. Her eyes spied a police-use crowbar about one meter in length. She snatched the heavy steel pole and, while she was in there, a face mask.

She put the mask on, checked the filters to make sure they were fresh then carried the heavy pole back out into the main lobby. She wedged one end beneath the concrete section over his leg then put all of her weight against the pole until it slid away from his leg. It had rested on two other pieces of concrete on either side of his ankle; luckily, this kept his leg from being crushed.

Once free, he got to his feet and attended to his pregnant wife. The building shuttered again from tremors and Carmelita groaned in frustration. "Get her out of here; she's pregnant and your concern is the safety of both her and the baby. Hurry, before this building collapses."

He lifted his wife into his arms then paused to look at Carmelita for a moment. "I would have never been able to get that concrete off of my leg without your help," said the Officer. "You've effectively saved both of our lives; don't you think about staying to rescue more people. Any fire department supervisor would call for an evacuation of all hands available."

"I'm _staying_, just go," Carmelita replied, lowering her ears.

"If you were to die in here…" He trailed off then asked her, "What's your name, miss?"

The vixen smirked at him then said, "Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox. Make sure I get the front page and you tell the press I wore a cape and shiny boots… Now get out of here before you and she get killed. Go on, move!"

The marmoset did as he was asked and quickly carried his wife out through the lobby. He glanced up from beneath the awning, checked for falling debris, then hurried across the street with his unconscious bride. Meanwhile, back inside the building, Carmelita turned her attention to the stairs.

* * *

**Sly Cooper leaned back in his seat on the **airplane. Besides him, Murray looked up from his coloring book, peering through the window. Bentley and Penelope were both fast asleep in the pair of seats, two rows up. The hippopotamus reached over and gave a firm tug on Sly's shirt. "Look at that, Sly. Something is up with Paris." 

Sly arched his back, leaning forward to look through the window. In the distance, several plumes of thick smoke rose above the city proper. Sly narrowed his gaze then blinked rapidly. Without warning, the plane changed trajectory, leaving the passengers to become curious by the dramatic and sudden new heading. The 'seat belt' indicators lit up above everyone's head.

The public announcement system came to life. "This is your Captain speaking; there has been a change in flight plans. Due to an emergency in Paris, France, this flight is being diverted. I'm being advised by traffic control to tell you to remain calm and so I request that of you at this time. However, I've been instructed not to tell you what's going on and I feel that isn't right. I'm aware that France has just declared an immediate State of Emergency over French Airspace. All flights are now grounded indefinitely; until further notice. I'm not sure what has happened beyond radio chatter. It appears that Paris is under military attack; if you panic, it will be harder to pilot the aircraft. Please, remain calm; I will set down as soon as possible." The radio went quiet.

Sly and Murray exchanged confused glances and, two rows up, even Bentley and Penelope had awoken. Cooper cleared his throat, tilting his head a bit. "They're going to take us to Orleans or La Mans; that's quite a hike. I've got a sort of bad feeling about something." Sly reached his paw to the telephone on the backside of the headrest of the seat in front of him. He dialed a cellular telephone number and waited.

* * *

**Carmelita froze in the stairwell on the fourth floor.** Her pocket vibrated and the theme song to Le Femme Nikita began to play. She withdrew the phone but didn't recognize the number. At first, she decided against answering it but due to the nature of emergency, she decided that it could be important. '_What if the chief is trying to reach me on an alternative line?_' she thought. Finally, she flipped the phone open and put it to her ear. She cleared her throat, using her free paw to push the gas mask up over her forehead and announced, "Fox here." 

"Carmelita, this is Sly. _Please_ tell me you're still in Russia…"

"I appreciate your concern, Ringtail," she said, using the nickname without even realizing it. "But I'm in the middle of a one-person rescue operation at the downtown Interpol protectorate administration building." She listened to Sly on the other end then smiled a bit and said, "Your concern is touching but I'm okay. Stay out of Paris; Clockwerk is here and he's the cause of the attack. He's taking out every justice target in Paris. That tells me that I'm his primary target. I have a feeling you're part of the target list as well."

His voice, over the line, sounded somewhat tinny. "Carmelita; you're a police officer. Your duty is to wait for backup, isn't it?"

Carmelita's demeanor turned sour. "Sly, my _backup_ is trapped in the buildings that Clockwerk targeted! I'm _their_ backup! The more officers I rescue the more of us become available! I can't argue with you about this right now. …I love you." She closed the cell phone before giving him a chance to reply. She scowled softly concerning her 'slip of the tongue' then she put the phone back into her pocket and began ascending the steps once more.

* * *

**The raccoon buried his face in his paws for a moment.** "Carmelita isn't only right in the middle of that mess… she's the _target_." His words were heard by Murray, Bentley and Penelope. Sly continued. "Clockwerk is the one attacking Paris. But he's supposed to be _huge_. How could he have possibly remained under the military radar? They should have seen him coming and shot him down as an unidentified bogie, right?" 

"Difficult to say," Bentley said, buckling the secondary seat belt designed for handicap people. "Clockwerk is redesigned; he could have stealth technology or there could be a piece of this puzzle we've not seen yet." Bentley's voice changed into a sharp cry of surprise in unison to the plane lurching. "What in the world was _that_?" He turned his attention to the window; Murray did the same, two rows back.

"What in the world?" Murray whispered to himself in surprise. A dramatically small version of Clockwerk came parallel to the plane. The miniature, man-sized owl rotated its head, gazing at the windows on the side of the plane. "Uh... guys?"

Bentley announced, "I don't like the look of those fiber optic nodes at the tips of his wings. I can't think of a single reason they would be there except for weaponry."

"Fiber Optic cables sticking out of his wings?" asked Sly from where he sat. "I don't understand, how could that be used as a weapon?"

"You run fiber optic lines to the wing tips; they come out of the wings by about ten centimeters. At the tips of the protruding cable, there are lenses that direct a soliton laser beam. To the naked eye, you don't see the concentrated energy pattern; instead, you see a ghostly white line because the immense power causes instant vaporization of water from the humidity in the air. It's practically invisible, especially in cold or very dry weather."

Sly unbuckled his seat belt then leaned over Murray to look through the window. His eyes dropped from the miniature version of Clockwerk to the ground distance, far below. "Are you sure that those nodes on his wings are really soliton laser things?"

Bentley sighed in frustration then said, "Well, knowing the creator of Clockwerk, they could be even _more_ advanced technology. But I'm _trying_ to be an optimist, here!"

Clockwerk reduced his speed, coming to bare directly behind the commercial airplane. Once out of view, Sly grew very impatient. Despite the warning light on the ceiling above each seat, he stood up from his chair and retrieved his carry-on bags from the compartments in the overhead section. He retrieved his lucky backpack and slid it over his shoulders. "Bentley, how would a traveler, in a pressurized cabin, react to high-G maneuvers?"

"Sly!" Penelope exclaimed. "It would take _time_ to rewire the controls of this plane into a remote control layout that Bentley would be familiar with."

Bentley added, "Not only that, Sly, but I would have Penelope fly because she's the radio control guru. And it would take time; not to mention that the Pilots would _never_ allow for us to commandeer an aircraft. Finally, these planes aren't designed for evasive maneuvers. The turbofan engines would stall, the wings would crack and you'd be putting dozens of innocent lives at risk."

"Then _I_ will be the distraction," said Cooper. "Is there a way to exit the airplane without depressurizing the cabin?" He reached into his backpack, withdrew a lucky horseshoe, studied it for a brief moment, then replaced the lucky superstitious object back into his lucky knapsack.

Bentley's head lifted out of his shell and peered over the headrest of his seat… something only a turtle could accomplish. "Sly, don't get yourself killed! I… I guess you could go down to the hold and activate the manual release lever for the landing gear. Then, if you're really careful, climb down the landing manifold and jump downwards. Breathing will be difficult from this height and, even with your parasail, it would take forever to make it to Paris. The logistics are horrible, the safety protocol doesn't even apply with having Clockwerk breaking off to chase you…"

"Leave the 'logistics' and 'safety protocol' to me," Sly replied. He didn't have a jet pack and the parasail wouldn't help aid him in a safe landing from such a high altitude. However, Sly had a plan. He dashed up to the front of the plane and found a flight attendant. Bentley could barely make out what the raccoon told her. "…Only chance of survival; you _have_ to show me how to get down to the hold. So, stop arguing, and start moving before we're all blown up."

The flight attendant had an expression of shock etched into her softly furred features. Finally, the attractive coatimundi took Sly by the wrist and led him to the back of the plane. Bentley craned his head again, watching them go by. Passing through the coach section, a gruff looking man in his seat reached up and snatched Sly by the fabric of his pants, right at his knee.

Sly paused and looked back at the man who cleared his throat and said, "You have awfully big brass buttons to jump out of a plane as some sort of diversion. Are you _sure_ that thing wants _you_?" It became obvious that everyone on the plane overheard Sly and Bentley's conversation. "If it's true, then using a parachute will make you a sitting duck. A modern chute will automatically deploy the emergency chute once you reach a certain altitude of descent. Then you have no choice but to float around and wait for your death."

Sly sort of smirked. "This plane is two-thirds full of people. Do you have any better ideas? Relax, bud. Just make sure you tell the newspaper that it was Sly Cooper who daringly jumped in the line of fire to ensure your safety. I've always wanted to be a celebrity in a positive light. Heh. Tell them I wore a cape and some shiney boots." He brushed the man's paw from his pants and continued down the aisle, towards the back of the plane.

The stewardess opened a hatch leading to a crawlspace, beneath the cabin. Sly began to descend the ladder then looked up at the lady who knelt besides him. "Close the hatch behind me then go back up to the pilot and have him …I don't know – tell the man to pull up or something. Just stay far away from Clockwerk."

The pretty, young coatimundi pressed her lips against Sly's cheek and said, "You told that man in Coach your name… I've never met a famous criminal before but… sacrificing yourself to draw the attention of an attacker… that's heroic. I've never kissed a hero before; hopefully it will bring you some luck."

Sly grinned a bit then disappeared into the hatch. The Master Thief watched as she closed the cover overtop of him; his ears flickered, hearing her lock the floor panel. He then climbed through the belly to a special door. Sly opened it and climbed through it then shut it behind himself. He took another ladder down into the hold. A sign on the next door had a pressurization warning in French, English and German lettering. To his brief amusement, the message included a brail version at the bottom of the sign.

"Who in the heck would work on an airplane if they can't see? Isn't that a security procedure? _Looking_ for bombs?" He shook his head, opened the door and stepped through, shutting it behind him. The air _was_ thin, here. Not beyond breathable but Sly felt as though he breathed air through the tube of a snorkel. The raccoon approached the section that held his luggage and retrieved his cane.

He walked through the organized sections of luggage, heading back towards one of the large humps in the floor. Sly unlatched a square buckle in front of the metallic hump then lifted it on hinges to reveal a massive wheel assembly. He opened the metal casing all the way then pried it so that it would not close on accident. He then turned his attention to a lever on the wall. Cooper wrapped his paws around the handle and pulled it down with all of his upper body strength. A buzzing noise followed and the wheel began to descend. The air became thinner and daylight illuminated the immediate area, causing him to squint; his eyes readjusting.

While waiting for the wheel to lower, Sly removed his hat and put it into his pocket. He reached back up for the lever, raised it then quickly scampered down the side of the landing gear manifold. It began to rise again but Sly quickly leapt from it before it could complete the closing cycle. The open air and wind greeted his face and tousled his fur. His tail wavered about, flapping behind him like a cape, caught by the wind.

Clockwerk, behind the craft, gained visual confirmation of a body falling from beneath the plane. His optical hardware zoomed up on the body and identified it as the _primary_ target. The metallic owl broke formation from the passenger flight and tilted forward into a dive.

Sly saw the monstrosity and ducked his head down. He kept his legs together and his arms at his sides, holding his cane along his right leg, speeding up. Clockwerk was gaining on him quickly. Sly held his dive maneuver, waiting for Clockwerk to come into proximity. Cooper arched his back, opened his arms and legs, catching the wind. It caused his descent to slow, forcing Clockwerk to pass under him.

As soon as Sly saw the smaller body of his nemesis beneath him, he used his cane to catch Clockwerk by the neck. With all of his upper body strength, he pulled himself down to the metal bird. Sly locked his ankles around Clockwerk's metal frame, reaching his arms up and forcing his cane into Clockwerk's beak. He gripped the cane at either end and used it like reigns, trying to steer his enemy.

Clockwerk spun out of control; his back side fishtailed about and his body began to roll. The clumsy spiral had Cooper clinging to his arch-nemesis so as not to be separated. Clockwerk began to even out, vying for aerial control. Cooper leapt from the bird's back but kept his paws tightly secured to his cane. However, the mechanical contraption kept a tight grip on the metal pole in its beak.

Sly felt the cane sliding in his paws but he never released it. Seconds later, he hung from it, beneath Clockwerk, like a trapeze artist. He could see Paris approaching at an incredible speed and his body tingled with adrenaline from the thrill ride. His head lifted, feeling the wind against his chin. His eyes caught sight of what appeared to be a maintenance hatch beneath Clockwerk's head. Holding onto the cane for dear life made his intentions difficult.

Sly opened his muzzle, trying to capture the release latch with his teeth. From the wind, his tongue immediately felt dry. He closed his lips around a circular release latch then clasped his teeth around it. Sly jerked his head from left to right, trying to force the hatch to open. It took more than twenty seconds, which felt like an eternity under the physically stressful conditions.

Something malleable brushed his feet. He couldn't look down, so he bent his knees, lifting his legs. Little did he know, he'd just brushed his ankles against a French flag perched upon the top of a skyscraper. The hatch finally opened and he jerked his head down to avoid the flying square panel that disappeared in the wind.

An assortment of wires became visible to Sly. He struggled, pulling himself up a few inches, until he could burry his muzzle inside the compartment. He opened his jaw then clamped down on a group of wires. They were bundled together with a plastic tie-wrap. He began chewing, using his teeth to cut through the plastic coating.

An electrical charge passed through his body, into his arms, into his staff and _back_ into Clockwerk's metal beak. Instead of electrocuting him, the current passed through him, doing little more than leaving a hot taste in the roof of his mouth. Sly winced then chomped with all of his might, severing the remaining wires in the bundle.

Clockwerk's left leg extended, causing more wind drag on his metal body. His talons curled about until his foot resembled a sort of metal fist. Meanwhile, his right leg began to twitch spasmodically. Sly opened his jaw and panted for a moment. The air wasn't quite as thin as it had been, up on the plane. His muscles ached from the semi-lack of oxygen due to the difficulty in normal breathing. He pulled at the cane above his head and lodged his head into the hatch yet again.

His jaw parted and he found another bundle of colorful wires. His teeth clamped around them and he began chewing through. Clockwerk's voice roared in intense volume, causing Sly to wince. "You will destroy us both, you foolish raccoon!" The warning didn't deter Sly from biting through the bundle of electrical wires.

Clockwerk's survival program booted up; he released the cane and jerked his head down and to the left. Sly separated from the metallic owl, and reached his right paw back to the chute cable for his parasail. He lifted his left paw, sliding the cane into a nylon sheath on his belt. The parasail popped open and he watched Clockwerk pass overhead, struggling to regain aerobatic composure.

Sly pulled hard on his steering cables, lifting his legs to try and slow himself. He aimed the chute through downtown, doing his best not to hit any buildings. His eyes focused in on a flaming structure in the downtown area and he did his best to aim for it. Sly gritted his teeth and tensed his body, jerking on the control cables in his palms. If he couldn't slow his velocity, his landing could turn fatal.

The stressed fabric of his parasail turned inside out, like an umbrella in a high windstorm. Sly began to plummet, heading for the Interpol Building at a deadly rate of speed. On instinct, he withdrew his cane and tightened his fists about it. The hook caught a horizontal flag pole on the North-side of the building, two stories from the ground. The sudden stop caused an incredible transference of kinetic energy, first into the flag pole, then back into his body. In an instant, the power of his sudden stop caused the cane to be ripped from his paws. Sly began to fall backwards, looking up at the sky. His tail floated up between his knees and he reached upwards, unable to grasp at the cane, still dangling from the flag pole, high above.

His back collided with something firm… Sly struggled to hold onto consciousness upon initial impact. In the distant background, he heard men shouting on all sides. His head lolled to the side until his nose touched against a grouping of firefighting hoses. He'd landed on the back of a fire engine, lying atop the stockpile of folded water hoses. Their truck had been the first responding vehicle to arrive at the Interpol building.

Up above, his cane fell from the flag pole and harmlessly landed next to him. Sly, with one last burst of adrenaline, lifted his head, peering around, then relaxed his body and dropped his head into the thick layer of folded hoses atop the Fire Truck. The parasail had become half-tangled around his belly and his backpack's left shoulder strap ripped. The pack hung from his right elbow; he somehow managed to lose his lucky horseshoe during his unceremonious landing.

The pack was empty, leaving him to grope through it for a moment before sighing in frustration. "Dang," Cooper muttered, panting softly. "Now I'll have to find another one. …I'm going to be sore tomorrow." The bruises on his chest from landing on Clockwerk's back were mirrored by the bruises on his back from falling two stories into the back of a fire truck.

A firefighter climbed up the back of the truck to receive a long hose attachment. He froze, seeing Cooper lying on top. "Jeeze, Chief, I think we had a jumper from the top floor land on the back of the rig!"

Another voice, down on the street, replied, "Charles, Fred, get over to Engine Three! Lacroix found a body on our hoses!" Moments later, two more firefighters climbed up the back of the fire truck. One of them approached Sly and placed his paw on the raccoon's neck.

"I'm alive, guys," Sly said, startling all three of them. "I thought I'd drop in to help you guys rescue Interpol agents. There's a vixen in her mid-twenties; she's wearing my diamond ring. I feel numb, like I'm lying on pins and needles."

"By the grace of God! How far did you fall?" asked one of the men in their gear.

"From the flag pole," Sly said, lifting his paw to the French Flag on the side of the building, above them. "So, about two stories. I came from a Boeing commercial plane," he added, pulling his boarding pass from his right pocket. "You wouldn't believe the parts in between the plane and the flag pole… so…"

Whatever the firefighters said next became drowned out by the noise of two passing Air Force fighter jets. They streaked by less than ten meters above, using the skyscrapers as evasive cover in a dogfight against Clockwerk. Sly looked back to the closest firefighter who removed his oxygen mask and placed it over Sly's muzzle. Cooper took a deep breath, taking a moment to let the perfect mixture of oxygen rejuvenate his muscles.

He took a few more breaths then lifted his paw and pushed the oxygen mask away. "Thanks, I needed that. Suit me up, I wanna go into that building; I came a long way just to help."

"Insurance doesn't cover you going into that building," said the first man. Sly couldn't tell their species because of the amount of gear they wore. "But if you're really crazy enough to have done all that stuff just so you could go into that building and save your fiancé, then who am I to stop you? Everything you'll need is accessible from a compartment inside the cab. It's unlocked."

Sly offered a wan smile. "You guys are way cool; definitely France's finest." He snatched his cane and sat up, aching from the bruises. He _crawled_ along the back of the truck and slid down into the half-open truck cab. Sly flopped into one of the passenger seats then opened a bin, pulling out a pair of boots, a coat and fire retardant overalls. When he looked up through the front windshield of the fire truck, he caught a glimpse of a familiar looking fox. He narrowed his gaze a bit, squinting in the distant haze then whispered, "Agent Jacob White…?"

* * *

**Meanwhile, Carmelita also _crawled_ to her destination**. She stayed low, beneath the thick smoke on the fourth floor. She had already helped seven people make their way to the staircase so that they could escape. Now she worked side-by-side with another Interpol agent, trying to secure the remaining fourth floor. 

She called out to the other agent, a female coyote named Janet Deveroux. "JD, I think this floor is clear. Let's move back to the stairs and head up to level five!"

"Okay, Inspector, I'll meet you there. I see a fire extinguisher and I'm going to retrieve it, first!"

Carmelita turned around and began crawling through the rubble of an office room. Everything lay in disarray. It looked as though the building had fallen victim to an earthquake from the way things lay strewn about on the floor. She made her way back to a hallway and glanced over her shoulder, seeing the sandy-furred coyote move into the hallway with an industrial-sized fire extinguisher in her grasp.

Inspector Fox afforded the woman a smile. "Good job, JD. I think that should come in handy when clearing a path through a burning office. Keep an eye out for anything we might see upstairs; let me know and I'll grab one, too. The more we have, the better our chances."

"Of course," replied Janet, crawling beneath the smoke haze until the two women were side by side. They headed for the stairway at the end of the hall. The building shook again. Each tremor had become stronger than the last. As they reached the stairwell, the building shuttered violently. A plume of dust and ash rushed down the staircase from above, clouding everything in darkness.

"Crap, what now?" Carmelita muttered. The respirator mask over her muzzle muffled her words. She could see that Janet only had a simple fabric respirator cover. The building grunted again, followed by an intense thunder of noise. "Part of the building must be collapsing! We need to evacuate and regroup!"

Another miasma of dust rushed down the steps from above. Following the thick cloud, the building belched slabs of concrete down the steps, striking both officers. They collapsed to the floor, rolling down the metal staircase, leading to the third level. The wave of debris and rubble acted like a wave, forcing them half-way down the staircase, to the rectangular platform against a wall. Behind them, a section of stairs went up and a section of stairs went down. Both lay motionless, half buried against the wall, in a mountain of concrete powder and other small debris.

Carmelita lay on her side, unable to move. The pressure of the rubble against her back, sandwiching her against the wall, made it difficult to breathe. She resembled a rag doll, her arms and legs lying haphazardly about her, her tail splayed over her hip, cushioning her pelvis from the granite pieces all around her.

Janet Deveroux, equally sprawled out and half buried under the fresh pile of rubble, shouted for help, hoping that someone would hear them. The coyote couldn't feel her legs, save for the fact that her knees were pressed together from the weight of rubble that half-buried both women in the stairwell. After several moments of shouting, she slumped back to take a short rest and save her breath.

* * *

A/N: _Onoes, a hitch in the race for the artifacts! The building is starting to collapse in sections, leaving precious minutes for our hero to find and rescue his fiancé. This is the part of the story where I add traumatic moments in their relationship. That way, the next time we see them fight or argue, we'll understand why they endure the low-points and stay together. _

_See? Toljda I was going to make things go "boom" in the chapter following number 9. Nothing goes boom like a twenty pound warhead going off and destabilizing a whole building. _

_Will Sly and Carmelita emerge from this mess as heroes? How will this situation have baring on their relationship? Will Sly's obsession with putting a stop to Clockwerk's plans put undue stress on their love life? _

_Most importantly, how does the forces of evil play into obtaining these artifacts from around the world? What happens if the parts are collected? How will this unknown cult of fanatics affection Sly and Carmelita's relationship? And, finally, who exactly was the woman we saw on the bus or the man Sly saw in the intersection, while suiting up? _

_-Kit_


	11. A Black and White Choice

Chapter -11-  
A Black and White Choice

**Smoke billowed above the city remains**. It clouded the afternoon sky and darkened the landscape. Buildings, reduced to rubble, smoldered beneath the dust of plaster and ashes of debris. Floating embers fluttered through the dim sky like snowflakes; tiny orange cinders and chalky white particles layered the streets.

In the distance, marching footfalls in rhythmic cadence faded in and out of audible range. A subtle rumbling of chaos vibrated beneath the concrete. A soft gale fed the remaining fires; they burned sporadically throughout the district. The wind robbed the land of an otherwise deafening sound… the silence of death.

A bloody paw snaked out through the broken chunks of granite. It clawed at the surrounding concrete, attempting to free its mate. Leaving splotches of crimson over the dusty particles and slabs of stone and mortar, it worked diligently until another dirty, chocolate furred paw became free. The second paw bore a beautiful diamond ring; its brilliance contrasted against the soot and grime. Soft feminine groans emanated from beneath the rock as those bloody stumps of her fingers worked to free her head and body.

The building's foundation shifted a bit and some of the concrete sections trapping her slid to the left. With all of her might, Carmelita Fox hoisted an enormous section of concrete from behind her head and shoulders, freeing her body above the waist. She sat up, gasping inside of the respirator mask from the release of pressure on her torso. Below her hips, down to her feet, she remained encased in concrete. However, with a renewed sense of survival, her training kicked in and allowed her to focus.

The rhythmic thunder, sounding like the cadence of marching, came into the range of her ears again but this time, she recognized the sound. Her soot-covered eyebrows furrowed in distaste and a single word rolled off her tongue, muffled by the mask. "…Clockwerk." His wings flapped rhythmically in the distance, stopping every so often to glide.

Carmelita placed her bloody paws against the Tetris-like blocks of broken concrete that encased her lower body. She pushed with all of her might to pull her legs free but it had her in a stranglehold. The building grunted again, shifting and settling. Carmelita froze for a moment then began struggling again. "This place had better not finish collapsing when I pull myself out."

Her eyes landed on something colorful nearby. Janet's fire extinguisher sat within arm's reach to the Inspector. She leaned forward in the waist-deep pile of rock and began to tug on the canister. It took a great deal of energy but she managed to free the red cylinder. Carmelita raised it into the air above her head then began to use it as a hammer on the rubble enclosed about her. A slab cracked into two sections, giving her precious centimeters around her waist. Breathing became easier and provided a driving motivation to continue.

With each solid strike of the canister against the stone, her ears flickered at the echo of reply. After several moments, her ears flitted once more in irritation at a new sound. It took a moment for her mind to register it then she gasped and froze, listening.

The sound came again, so very faint that she wasn't sure she'd _really_ heard it to begin with. "…Carmelita?" The distant cry sounded a third time; she knew the voice. She wasn't sure _how_ this could be possible but she _knew_ the voice.

Her racing mind attempted to piece together some semblance of logic. '_You _know_ how feasible it is to be hearing things right now. You're parched, your mouth is filled with dust; it's caked on your tongue under this mask… It could be your mind playing tricks on you…' _She couldn't risk not being saved. She sucked in her breath then, at the top of her lungs, shouted, "I'M HERE! Fourth floor stairwell! Hurry!"

The voice came again, "Carmelita?! Is that you?" A temporary repose then, "Keep talking, I'll follow the sound of your voice!"

Her eyes widened and her chest knotted up. "Sly! This way! Hurry! I'm here," she cried, struggling against the sheath of granite around her body. A loud crashing sound ensued, leaving her breathless with worry. What if he'd just been crushed by sliding rocks? What if…

The voice shook her from her gruesome reverie and relief flooded her body, hearing him again. "Keep talking; are you okay? I'm still coming! I won't leave without you!"

She drew in another breath then exclaimed, "I'm here! I'm trapped! I can't move!" Her eyes lifted, seeing a shadow flit overhead. The entire building had collapsed around her; the fourth-floor staircase rested about two stories from the ground in the far corner of a massive rubble pile. The building's remains shifted and settled; she couldn't fathom how she'd managed to survive this far. One thing became clear: she would have to hurry before the building finished collapsing or she would die.

* * *

**Sly Cooper groaned. He **struggled to climb up the mountain comprised of unstable concrete and bent girders. Wearing the protective firefighting gear made it impossible to _ninja spire jump_ his way through the wreckage. Collapsed corridors caused broken water pipes to spray water – meant for the sprinkler system – in every direction. Small fires still burned in several sections. _'Hmm, I think I'm lucky. The main fire must have burned out during the collapse,_' he thought.

Bentley would have had an elegant way to word it; Sly could even hear the tortoise's voice in his head. '_The structural disintegration caused a suffocating effect, mixed with the dust. Oxygen was forced outwards during the implosion, not only crushing the fires but depriving them of the oxygen! The fires could not substantiate as they are completely congruent and would expire with any such lack of…'_ Even in Sly's mind, Bentley seemed to ramble.

He remembered and reflected on every instance leading up to this point. He remembered climbing out of the fire truck, trying to see if Agent White had been in the vicinity. Sly wanted to call for the man's help but became distracted when the entire building began to sink into the earth on the east section. It resembled one of those videos on blasting the supports out of a condemned building. And yet, the far corner remained fairly high. Everything above the blast had shifted during the collapse and caused the building to teeter precariously to the east. It toppled like a massive tree and became consumed in a billowing pillar of soot and ashes right before his eyes.

Cooper remembered bolting out of the fire truck, only to have several powerful arms lock around his body, holding him back. He remembered struggling against the firefighters who held him until the building finished tumbling from the sky. His facial fur, still matted down from the tears of defeat, began to collect a fine powder of grime. The caked dirt loosened from his cheeks as more tears slipped over his face. This time, they were tears of testament and joy, hearing her vocal replies. Hope welled up in his chest.

She shouted again and he withdrew his cane, pulling himself up the rocky concrete slope. He knew that her survival depended on him. A miracle got her this far but he couldn't slow in his search or she wouldn't make it much longer. The building continued to grunt and settle; each time it caused the concrete stones to shift. Sly knew the remaining corner supports wouldn't last much longer from the displacement of weight. He _had_ to hurry.

Sly kicked off the large fire boots in frustration then wiggled out of the rest. Free of the heavy gear, he leapt upwards, skillfully landing on the tip of an iron beam. It jutted out, away from the mountainous slope. His mind began to race again, replaying the recent events before his eyes. After the building collapsed a few moments ago, he remembered forcing his way out of the firefighters' grip. He also remembered glancing back over his shoulder but did _not_ see Agent White.

Sly recalled climbing into the pile of debris, feeling empty and heartbroken. He couldn't breathe and yet his body had forced him to begin searching right away. When he caught wind of a loud hammering sound, he became filled with hope again and called her name. Sly, now filled with unbelievable joy, hastened his advance. Hearing her voice seemed like a miracle; his body became empowered by the renewed vigor. The intensity of his love for her pushed him onwards. He continued to climb the side of the unstable mountain of rocks and crushed metal beams, hurrying towards her voice.

Sly called out, "I'm almost there! I won't leave you, just keep talking for me!"

* * *

**The vixen lowered her gaze behind herself. **Janet Deveroux had been buried and Carmelita didn't see any signs of her body. Cooper's voice called out again and so she responded. "I can hear you better. You sound like you're getting closer! Hurry, before Clockwerk comes back!"

Her eyes widened, seeing Cooper spring up from out of nowhere. She watched him gymnastically alight upon a massive girder, less than ten meters away. He sprinted down the angled metal beam then somersaulted with grace to another loose pile of stones. He bounded off the unstable heap before it could shift beneath him and perched himself in a crouching stance, several feet away.

Sly lifted his head and gave her a reassuring grin, reaffirming his ego. He exercised extreme finesse in executing his acrobatic maneuvers. Without his refined and elegant poise, the Master Thief wouldn't have survived the treacherous climb. He approached her and withdrew his cane.

The vixen relaxed somewhat in her demeanor. "I never thought I'd be so happy to see _that_ thing," she cried in reference to his family heirloom. "I don't have a crowbar anymore," she added, throwing the fire extinguisher away from herself.

Sly wasted no time, wedging the handle of his cane into the rocks around her body. He hooked his arms around the other end of the metallic staff then leaned back putting his weight into the attempt until a stone slab shifted several inches. He grunted, under his breath, trying with all of his might to give her more room.

Carmelita began hoisting herself free, inch by inch. She watched him struggle to free her in haste. She still had problems with the shifting rock that slid around her ankles, making it difficult to free herself. "…Almost!" she exclaimed.

"C'mon," Sly grumbled. He lifted the cane then thrust it back down into the small gap besides her. He backed up a few steps then dashed towards the cane, kicking it to multiply his body weight with momentum. The granite shifted again and the pressure around her left leg loosened. She scrambled up, trying to free herself completely. The building trembled again.

The new tremor caused the rocks to begin shifting around her once more; she felt her body starting slide back into the concrete tomb. Sly, however, responded with quick abandon. He scooped her up from beneath her arms, temporarily abandoning the cane. He lifted her from the shifting rocks and clearly announced, "Jinga!"

Her legs slid clear of the settling debris just in time for the building to tremble with another shift. In an instant, the encasing rock collapsed in on itself, sealing the enclosure of rock just as Sly pulled her to freedom. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he embraced her with a desperate grip. The two tumbled down, adjacent to the fire extinguisher, panting in relief. Sly's cane stood straight up out of the rock like the legendary Excalibur.

They lay there, in one another's arms, gripped by nervous laughter. Carmelita sighed in relief and thought, '_I could have become crushed from the waist down, had Sly not been there to pull me out_.' They held one another and she sobbed against his chest in frustration and some measure of relief mixed with embarrassment.

In reply, he hushed her with a calming touch, petting her hair. He whispered tender words into her ear. He used his free paw to ease the respirator from her muzzle, throwing it aside. She began to cough and so he reached about her body, patting her back. She nuzzled into his chest, hiding her face and he wrapped his arms around her, taking a short moment to hide her from the world.

Their reprieve from danger became short-lived with another convulsion in the concrete below them. Sly shrugged out of his backpack and pulled out a bunched-up sheet of blue fabric. He quickly smoothed out the parasail then eased it back into the backpack properly and handed it to her. "Something in my gut says we're going to have to jump. This is the highest point; we'll be fine. Use this, Carmelita."

"What about you?" she asked.

Sly wanted to reassure her by dissuading her worries. "Flag pole, to the fire engine. I'll do a quick roll then a dive, followed by a triple Lutz. I'll land on the street and take a bow."

"If you get yourself killed…" She trailed off, taking the backpack from his paws. "Isn't this your lucky knapsack?"

"Yeah, I'll want that back," Sly replied, guiding her to the crumbled corner wall. They peered over the side, looking down to the fire engine, two stories below. Another jolt reminded them to maintain a sense of urgency. Sly placed his paws out, palm up.

She stepped into his padded grip and he hoisted her over the half-crumbled concrete wall. Carmelita leapt from the wall and pulled the chute string. She sailed to the clear and aimed herself towards the far side of the fire truck.

Sly smiled. "Good girl," he whispered, turning back to his cane. Sly approached it and wrapped his paws around the shaft, trying to tug it free. The cane didn't move. "You've got to be joking," he muttered with a shake of his head. He backed up a few steps then dashed towards it, kicking the pole with his right foot. The malleable cane bent slightly then repelled him to the ground, wobbling in its place.

Sly glared at it. "Mock _me_ will ya?" he said, getting to his feet. The raccoon picked up the fire extinguisher and used it to chip away the concrete surrounding the staff. He'd used it to save her and, because her safety outweighed everything else in his life, he had abandoned it to rescue her from a concrete cave-in. Now the cane couldn't be removed. The building trembled violently and a plume of smoke began to rise up from the wreckage around him.

Sly shook his head, stroking the golden 'C' with a sad sigh. "You've been a part of me, even when I left you on the shores of Kane Island. Goodbye, old friend." He then changed his tone, and added, "I tried, dad. But something tells me you'd rather I save myself then to die trying to save our family cane. Forgive me." The thunderous quaking began to overpower the sound of his voice. He backed away from the cane, remaining calm. Sly took one last second to let its image become etched into his mind forever then he turned his back on the family heirloom.

Cooper hoisted himself up over the broken wall and jumped. In mere seconds, his feet connected to the flagpole. His windswept, plaster-covered fur shifted directions on contact and his knees bent to absorb the impact. The flag pole rebounded and catapulted him back into the air. He tucked his legs and leaned forward, ducking into a graceful somersault. A split second elapsed; his legs extended once more and his feet met the remaining hoses on top of the fire engine. Then, just as he predicted, he rolled forward, kicked his feet out and launched himself off the back of the truck.

He twisted his body to the left, performing three full rotations like a figure skater. Concluding the maneuver, Sly landed on the street with a great deal of forward momentum. He tucked himself into another roll then emerged from it on one knee. His arms lifted, posing as if he had just performed at the Olympics. Behind him, the remainder of the building gave out and began to crumble.

The firefighters scattered; one of them dove at the preening raccoon, bringing them both to the ground. Brought back to reality by the jarring force, Sly grunted, feeling the weight of the burley bear on his back. Another loud crashing sound filled his ears, in conjunction to the building collapse. Large concrete rocks fell all around them, some striking the fire truck with excessive force. Sly heard Carmelita shout in concern for his safety but her voice seemed far away. He began to struggle.

"Don't move!" reprimanded the firefighter, shouting into Sly's ear. Rocks continued to fall from the sky for what seemed like an eternity. The rumbling thinned out then an eerie quiet filled the immediate area. The soft tapping of loose debris could be heard, striking the street on all sides. Another moment passed and the weight on the raccoon's back lessened. The firefighter appeared injured; he rolled off of Cooper with a soft groan.

Sly sat up in a fog of loose plaster. He couldn't see more than a meter in front of his face. Somewhere in the distance, Carmelita shouted for him again but the air felt too thick to try and holler back. He could hear the worry in her voice, calling out his name with some measure of desperation. Sly tucked his head into the front of his shirt then covered the dusty fabric with his arm and took a slow, deep breath. He lifted his head then bellowed, "I'm okay! Stay back for a minute!"

"I can't see you!" she shouted back.

"I'm fine!" he replied, ducking his face back into the front of his shirt for another breath. Without an actual respirator, Sly found it difficult to breathe. Even with his shirt, it seemed as though the plaster and dust permeated every part of his clothes and fur.

A powerful flapping noise caused his ears to perk. A thick miasma of white dissipated above him, allowing for a winged shadow to consume his position. He lifted his head, looking up at Clockwerk who descended on his position, flapping away the thick cloud in the immediate area. Sly felt as though he now stood at the center of a donut cloud and yet, his mind cleared along with a section of debris. Instead of cowering, Sly found some sort of inner resolve from the sight of Clockwerk.

The metallic bird, oddly his size, landed upon the street before him. It folded the ten foot wingspan back, along his metallic hull, like a real bird. It watched Sly move into a defensive posture then rotated its head, cocking a metal brow at him. "If you steal my real body back, I will let you and the Inspector live. I will not amend this deal with any stipulations, Cooper, because your requisites do not concern me. I do not care to hear your supposition on how you will accomplish this feat. You will either do as I've asked or you will both die."

Sly's jaw dropped wide open. "You just attacked _both_ myself _and_ Carmelita and now you want my _help_?"

"I've freed Carmelita Fox to all ties with Interpol, temporarily. I pursued your flight to follow you. Rebuilt, I am a perfect and calculating machine. I spotted her _across_ the street from the Interpol building before I attacked." The emotionless machine reverted to the previous topic. "My body, constructed by Steven, now sits in Prague. My attempts at a full-scale direct attack have resulted in failure. The statistical probability of reuniting with that body has the highest success factor if you are a variable. Both you and Carmelita Fox will be assumed as 'deceased' by those possessing my proper frame. Both of you will now go to Prague and assist me in the recovery of my rightful body."

Sly could _not_ believe his ears. He didn't have his cane, so he couldn't attack Clockwerk outright. He just stood there, gawking in complete disbelief. He wanted something _graceful_ and witty to say in reply but his defenses were up and his mind raced. His muzzle lingered open; silent.

"Well?" Clockwerk remained motionless.

"Enclue." Sly just let the French word slip over his tongue.

Clockwerk re-canted his head. "Pardon?" It rotated in its metal tracks.

"Vas te faire encule," Sly said in a plain voice. Then, in a stronger tone, he added, "Vas te faire foutre," ending with a grand, "Tu m'emmerdes! Encule!" Sly attempted to stay calm. Deeply insulted and exasperated, Cooper lifted his paw, pointing his finger at the machine. Before he could curse further, he closed the paw into a fist and dropped it at his side.

Clockwerk remained unfazed. "Your vulgar reply does not answer my question. Void of my hate chip, I cannot do anything more than look at numbers in variables and probabilities. Unfortunately, it now seems as though the likelihood of your willingness to help is somewhere under the range of five percent for success."

"Five percent, huh?" Sly balled his other paw into fist then clinched them both to keep his cool; no cane meant no direct confrontation. "That's an awfully optimistic number; are you _sure_ you don't have a few screws loose up in that plastic and copper brain of yours?"

"If you're referring to a traditional processor, you're quite mistaken," Clockwerk said.

In Cooper's mind, this metal bird obviously _wasn't_ the same fiend he knew from his past. No, memories may have been retained but this emotionless machine didn't even care about the animosity between them anymore. Cooper felt somewhat cheated; he wanted to make his fight with Clockwerk personal but the owl didn't seem to care.

Sly's disappointment shined in his eyes and Clockwerk noted it. "You may wish to continue a private war with me but I've done the math and it benefits no one. I require your skills as a thief to aid in the recovery of my other body; it's in Prague."

Sly put his paws proudly upon his hips. "I'm not helping you, lug head. My VCR has more sense than you do."

To Cooper's complete astonishment, Clockwerk ignored the insult and said, "My central processing unit is comprised of fiber optic components that allow for multi-core computation at sixty terahertz _per_ core. I have done the math and…"

"Shut up!" Sly threw his paws up into the air. "You've _murdered_ innocent people today! You're an abomination and, emotional or not, you're a homicidal maniac! You need to self destruct!"

"Because you're a fallible mortal man," Clockwerk clearly announced, "I will give you the benefit of the doubt and contact you again in twenty-four hours for your answer." The machine unfolded its wings from along the sleek, shiny hull and lifted them.

Sly returned to his defensive posture. "Let's fight, right here and right now. Let's finish this; I'll tear you apart, piece by piece until your 'components' litter this Avenue."

"If you were to attempt a single advance," Clockwerk warned in a monotone voice, "You would already be dead." And, as if to prove his point, Clockwerk fired the soliton laser. The high-powered weapon of concentrated energy remained invisible to the naked eye, save for a ghostly white flutter. Bentley mentioned that the ghostly visual happened because of the vaporization of humidity in the air.

Sly blinked, tilting his head a bit. "I didn't even have to jump; you missed. Are you seriously that dense?"

Clockwerk lifted its wings and ascended from the ground. "Twenty-four hours, Sly Cooper." The machine took to the sky, leaving Sly to blink rapidly. Carmelita dashed from out of the misty cloud of swirling debris and threw her arms around him.

Sly returned the gesture but could feel her body language change dramatically, followed by her pulling back and gaping at him. "What just happened to you?" she asked. Before Sly could return with his own inquiry of confusion, she pointed at something over his shoulder, prompting him to turn around.

Cooper did so, following her furry finger; his heart stopped for a moment. Directly behind him, faintly visible as the dust began to clear, the entire fire engine had been sliced, diced and shredded. His eyes flitted over the wreckage. '_The patterns of precision cuts run horizontally, vertically and both directions diagonally,_' he thought to himself in shock. A section of the middle remained whole in a perfectly traced cutout of Sly Cooper's silhouette. It retained whiskers, the fluff of his hair and ears, and every delicate space between each finger of both paws.

Part chrome, part gauges and part sheet metal, the cutout showed just how lethal Clockwerk's new weapon could be. The remainder of the truck, front and back, were in fine slivers of metal, glass and rubber. The truck had been diced so completely that one could pick up the sharp metallic pieces by the fistful then let them sift out between the fingers. A large mixture of gas and water rested on the ground in a puddle around its remains.

Sly glanced up over his shoulder, watching Clockwerk depart. He knew, since then on, that Clockwerk could have killed him in mid air, if it _wanted_ him dead from the start. He also knew never to take on Clockwerk in a one-on-one battle. His attention returned to Carmelita and he said, "Clockwerk was demonstrating one of his weapons; he said I have twenty-four hours to make a decision before he returns. He wants me to _help_ him steal back his other body… the one Steven created."

"You said _NO_ right?" Carmelita exclaimed.

Sly afforded her with a slight smile. "I pretty much told him to kiss my fuzzy-tailed ass. Then, he said he'll give me a day to think about it and took off. He also said he spared you on purpose because he saw that you were sitting across the street from the building when he attacked it. He claimed that he want purposely let us live; he wants us to steal his body, sitting in Prague."

Carmelita placed her paw to her muzzle in thought. "That explains why I saw Gripens, earlier."

"What?" Sly blinked at her.

"It's a fighter plane made by Saab; never mind that," she told him. "If we know that his other body is in Prague but he's been transferred out of it, we should go there." She smirked then added, "…and destroy it for ourselves. Then, we can put the word out that we stole his body from Prague. When he shows up to reclaim it, we'll have set a trap for him. This way, we can destroy him for good."

Sly felt amused but, at the same time, he seemed less ready to jump at such an opportunity. "You want to go to Prague, destroy his body then lure him in and take him out? He's a computer, Carmelita. What if he thought of that and is ready for us?"

Inspector Fox dropped her paws at her side then shifted her weight a bit and said, "Interpol will have their paws busy cleaning this up. Let's hurry to Prague. God, Ringtail, I'll even let your gang members help. This is our chance to finish Clockwerk forever. If we destroy the large body, then finding those artifacts won't_ matter_ anymore. There will be no host body. Besides, Clockwerk has killed people today. I think we should…" She found herself suddenly interrupted; her breath turned into a sharp gasp, hearing a stern tone behind her.

"Inspector Fox," came the voice of an important man. "I can't even begin to question where you've gone wrong." Her teacher and mentor, Chief Barkley stood behind her with a dirty shirt and a loose tie around his neck. His collar button remained fastened but the knot of his tie hung above his sternum. "You've failed to bring back information on the five dead bodies. You've turned up _nothing_ on your investigation and now you're going to run off with a known felon who faked amnesia to avoid arrest. That crazy machine is a military target." He pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket and snapped off one end with his powerful jaw.

The chief pulled a box of wooden matches from his pocket, struck one, cupped the flame with his right paw and lit the cigar. "The thing is, France would take a few days to transfer troops to Prague. They would have to do Recon and set up a plan. Then, covert operations would go in and try to destroy the body. If I heard right, you've got twenty-four hours to get in, plant charges and get back out. After all, the real truth to the military is that they're after the _known_ target; a small one-and-a-quarter meter airborne machine."

Sly raised his voice and, in the third person, said, "Not to mention that Sly Cooper has been cleared of past crimes in this country."

"That may be true," Barkley said, taking a puff on the cigar. The old hound turned from Carmelita to Cooper and said, "But there are still a few outstanding warrants for you in India."

Carmelita sighed and said, "No. He's… Not wanted there. Somehow, the Firestone of India was mysteriously turned in by an anonymous person. I returned it to its rightful owners and donated the reward money."

Barkley took another slow toke on the cigar then said, "This is a highly unstable area. I came down here to survey the destruction of the downtown Interpol branch. It's a total loss, just like our office down at Central. Not a single police department in _all_ of Paris remains. Every courthouse in the city has been demolished. Due to the temporary lack of police protection for this city, the Mayor has turned Paris over to the French Military until further notice. Leave Clockwerk to the military."

"But chief! " Carmelita interjected.

"No," Barkley said, flipping the cigar from the left corner of his canine muzzle, over to the right. "Listen to what I'm saying, Inspector Fox. Leave the aerial target, the one which has just attacked Paris, to the Military. Now, I don't know the _whole_ story, but I do believe your investigation is _not_ closed. I'm fairly certain your evidence trail leads to Prague. Head to Lyon, secure your gear and catch a flight to Prague. I don't want to hear another word until you have something substantial to report." He cast a very thin smile then turned towards an approaching fire truck, flanked by an ambulance.

The chief glanced over his shoulder at Sly and added, "And _you_… stay out of trouble, or there won't be any room for you as a returning Constable. I'm not kidding. I was very stern with Carmelita Fox, back when she was _my_ Constable. Neither of us will tolerate your childish insubordination. And, dammit, I want information on those five dead bodies when you return, Fox." He walked off to meet up with the other emergency services and to leave Sly and Carmelita alone.

"You didn't tell him?" Sly asked her, regarding the bodies.

"I… might have stalled," she muttered. "I wanted to have more facts, you know? I needed to know why the American Government got involved and why they were working to hide that information. I … just… wasn't _ready_ to tell him, yet." She folded her paws across her chest and looked away from him. "Where's your cane?"

Sly wanted to hug her. He refrained, for the time being, and then told her, "The building was coming down around us. With both of you wedged in that pile of concrete, I only had time to rescue one of ya'. Maybe it's for the best."

Carmelita looked over her shoulder and glared at him for a moment. Sly offered an awkward smile then she huffed. "Give me a moment. Don't go _stealing_ anything while I have my back turned."

"Not like I can pickpocket very well, without my cane," Sly replied in self defense.

She crossed the foggy area, approaching her boss. Sly couldn't hear what they said but, from what he could tell, she seemed to be telling him what had happened in the building. Once she finished her report, she returned to Cooper and said, "You're on probation. Also, I've asked him to contact the CIA concerning Prague. I have a feeling those two idiots, Mr. White and that lady squirrel, are going to be connected. Call it a cop-hunch. We'll meet up with your 'boyfriends' and go west," he said in reference to Murray and Bentley. "I swear if I catch you stealing _any_thing… you're _all_ going to jail."

"Yeah? What would _they_ go to jail for?" Sly asked, partially amused.

"Association," she replied. "Now, I'm _still_ angry with you for stealing back in that underwater city. I don't care if you were under the impression that it was to save the world. I don't care _what_ you were doing. I've forgiven you, due to the circumstances, but I'm still angry and it will be a while before I can trust you. However, you've gotten lucky and I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt." She then un-shouldered his backpack with the re-folded parasail stashed inside. She pushed it into his paws and said, "And that was a _childish_ stunt you pulled, jumping off the building like that. A firefighter risked his life to save you, when the building collapsed the rest of the way. You could have gotten yourself flattened while you were posing like an idiot."

"By the way," Sly told her, casting his gaze at the smoldering ruins of the Interpol office building. In the background, firefighters wore chirping alarms that played a different noise for every company department now present. Sly turned his attention back to her and said, "I'm not completely sure, but I thought I saw Agent Jacob White, seconds before the building started to drop. If I'm right, he's here in Paris."

Carmelita tightened her jaw. "We only have twenty-four hours. Let _him_ find _us_. Now, I will make this clear _one last time_: no more stealing, Sly Cooper. Do we have a deal?" She forced her paw out.

"All right," he said, taking her paw and, instead of shaking it, he kissed her knuckles. "I see you're still wearing the ring." He gave her a cheesy smile, to display his near-palpable relief.

Carmelita narrowed her eyes at him. "You screw up again and this ring will be up your nose." Whether she meant that the ring would be attached to her fist or not, she didn't specify. "If you ever want another night like Moscow, Russia then you'd better stay out of trouble. I'm only warning you once."

"Yes ma'am!" Sly said. As she led him away from the building, he cast one last fleeting glance back at the pile of rubble and sighed softly. '_That cane was a family heirloom_,' he thought to himself. '_But I should feel so lucky to have walked away with Carmelita, unharmed. Some sacrifices are worth it. I'm going to miss that cane._' He ran his paw back through his hair then reached for her soot-covered paw, closing his fingers around hers.

"I know we're short on time," Carmelita announced, "but we have a great deal to accomplish. My apartment isn't far from here. Both of us have sustained cuts and bruises from this event. Let's stop in at the Volunteer Rescue Squad near my home. Whoever is left at the stationhouse will offer us quick medical care and that is a priority."

"You know best," Sly said, trying to remain in her good graces, especially with the promise of future nights like the one they'd just shared in Moscow.

* * *

**The small vacuum hose**, complete with plastic filtration tip, would have been right at home in a dentist's office. With the lack of volunteer medics, the sixteen-year-old volunteer trainee in the front office allowed Carmelita access to the back room. She'd sorted through everything necessary, including two oral vacuum attachments designed to connect to a three-quarter horsepower vacuum engine.

The two of them stood in a bathroom, at two sinks, each facing their respective mirror. Both of them had taken their shirts off, to apply first aid spray to the minor wounds on one another's backs. Now, both of them stood at a sink, using the two small oral attachments to get all the dust and small pebbles out of their muzzles. The arduous task lasted another few minutes; Sly finished first.

She watched him in the corner of her eye then put the plastic vacuum tube into the sink. With her left paw, she made a quick adjustment to her bra. With her right paw, she probed the inside of her mouth, checking under her tongue for any remaining debris. She glanced back at Sly who seemed to be washing his hair in the neighboring sink. She broke the silence shared between them, saying, "I'm sorry about your family cane, Ringtail."

"Nah," he replied, ducking his entire head beneath the faucet. "Don't be; I'd make the same decision twice, if I had to. I don't regret choosing you over an object. A life can't be replaced."

Carmelita nodded sympathetically. "Neither can a cane, passed down through several generations of your family line." She paused for a moment, then added, "But… Thank you."

"You're wearing my ring," Sly reminded. "What would _any_ man rather have? A stick or his fiancé? Honestly, Carmelita… I don't regret my decision. I'm betrothed to a woman I consider irreplaceable. Maybe I can re-write the Cooper lineage as a bloodline of Master Investigators."

She afforded him with a smile. "You're sweet. You're being the Sly Cooper I knew right after Kane Island. The one who danced with me at the Police Ball. I suppose I'm still upset with you for lying to me but…"

Sly finished her sentence for her. "…But how else does one go about reinventing themselves? By erasing the past, of course. I'm sorry I had to lie to you. You wouldn't have been able to learn how to trust me if you thought I retained my identity. The truth is, even an old dog can learn new tricks."

"Ironically, I can't trust you anymore." She gave him a bit of a grin then added, "which is entirely _your_ fault. The only thing you're allowed to steal, from here on out, is the guns of our suspects. Got that?"

"Scout's honor," Sly said, washing the soap lather from his headfur. "By the way; a thought occurred to me…"

"Yes?" She licked her teeth, glad for the clean sensation in her mouth. Satisfied, she turned away from the sink, knelt down and shut off the vacuum motor.

"Now that my cane is gone, the key to the new vault is gone." He paused then added, "That artifact Sire wanted… you know, the fertility pendant we gave to our betrothed… It's now completely inaccessible to the bad guys."

Carmelita frowned thoughtfully. "Then let's hope…" She ran her fingers back through thick indigo tresses of plaster-laden hair. "Let's hope a second key can't be forged." She drew her paw back and aggressively slapped him flat on his rump, adding, "Stay here. I won't be long." She disappeared into the employee locker room, heading for the shower stalls.

Cooper watched her leave the room then reached his paw back to where she'd smacked his tail. "…Ow."

* * *

Later, in the last vestiges of sunlight as twilight fades from the sky…

**Chief Barkley lit another cigar.** All around him, backhoes worked relentlessly with the fire department and other emergency services to dig through the rubble. So far, one survivor had been located in the remains, over the last three hours. Dusk faded into night and the crew worked diligently under the power of portable spotlights.

Someone shouted, "We've found another survivor! She's breathing!" Every available medical responder rushed up, into the highest corner of 'The Pile' to offer assistance. Barkley watched with interest, supervising the group. Deemed the 'safety monitor,' Barkley surveyed the rubble pile carefully and kept alert. Each time the wreckage began to shift, he would call for the evacuation of the search team. So far, he'd only had to sound the alarm twice in the last three hours.

One of the workers called to the rest of the crew, "Hey! Somebody help me get this slab of rock off of her hips! Find something to pry it off! Hurry!"

Another person shouted in reply. "Hey, I found this cane! Will this do?"

The first voice announced, "Good job, Adams. This will work."

Moments later, a paramedic squad brought Janet Deveroux down in a stretcher. A young medic in passing handed over the distinct yellow cane to Chief Barkley. The golden hook at the top – used for pick-pocketing – bore a striking resemblance to the letter 'C' denoting the surname initial of its owner.

Barkley turned it about in his paw, shaking his head with some measure of disbelief. "Well I'll be darned."

* * *

A/N: _Wow. Lots of stuff is going to happen! The team will reunite to steal the biggest thing they've ever stolen before… A huge mechanical body! And then they have to figure out how to dispose of it in less than twenty-four hours! The CIA is still in the area and Clockwerk has demonstrated just how lethal he can be. _

_Carmelita and Sly seemed to have smoothed out the kinks in their relationship for now. So long as Cooper can behave, it has the potential to last. And what of Sly's infamous cane? Will it fall into the wrong hands or will it find its way back to its owner? _

_If the large Clockwerk Body in Prague can be destroyed, then that keeps the bad guys and necromancers from installing some sort of evil spirit, right? But how deep does this go? If we remember back to the last story, we learned that Sire and his goons have been plotting to resurrect some sort of being for quite some time… they wanted to put it into an indestructible body. They were a cult of worshippers who wanted to bring about Armageddon. Obviously they've been planning this for quite some time… but… Will Sly and the gang successfully stop them so far into their plot? Will Sly and the gang even find out how deep this plot is before it's too late? How much does the CIA really know? For those of you who think the CIA are in on this plot, like some sort of cliché conspiracy theory… I'll tell ya now: you're wrong! Lol :) _

_That would be boring. _

_By the way, the reason I had Sly speak in French to Clockwerk is because we're not supposed to say the "F" word in our fanfiction stories. Heh. If I wrote it all wrong, let me know and I'll edit it into the chapter. _

_I hope everyone is enjoying this story so far! I'm just starting to get things cooking! Muwahaha! _

_By the way, I've noticed a massive spike in hits on Chapter 9. A LOT of people read that chapter more than once. If anyone wants the UN EDITED version of that chapter, complete with explicit and ellicitly detailed action between Sly and Carmelita, you may PM me for it. But if I have any reason to believe that you're a minor, I probably won't send it. Why? Because, believe it or not, parents DO monitor their kid's email inbox. I don't want them freaking out on me, saying that I'm sending their son or daughter some porn stories. They'll trip out, you'll wind up in trouble and they'll come after me. I've been through rough moments with the parents of young readers; please understand that I have to protect myself from the misunderstood wrath of a parent. Also, please understand that they're only looking out for your well being. They have every right to monitor what you read if you're under eighteen. _

_So, **who wants to see more 'flirting-gone-naughty' between Sly and Carmelita**, while it lasts? (Who knows, maybe I'll keep them together for the rest of the story. Then again, I might make things a little rocky for them again. I've not decided.) _

_-KIT_


	12. Setting the Stage

Chapter -12-  
Setting the Stage

Paris, France – shortly after 3 a.m.  
Chief Barkley's residence…

**Agent Jacob White shifted his weight**, leaning up from his position atop of Sandra Moore. In the dark, he couldn't see the brownish color of her dyed fur; because of the GMC Denali's tinted windows, he couldn't see her eyes either. "Another sultry stakeout," he said to her with a chuckle. He lifted his paw to protect his face and grinned through his fingertips.

The clever squirrel reached her paw down and pressed a furry fingertip against the gunshot wound in his abdomen. She grinned, hearing the hiss of his breath catching. "Be nice to me," she replied in a playful tone. "I work harder than I play. That's why I'm still disguised as a chipmunk. Carmelita never recognized me, by the way. We practically sat side by side on that bus, for more than two minutes. She had no idea. At any rate," she paused and pointed at the radio in the dashboard. The aquamarine numeric display bathed the front seats in its soft incandescence. "Now, get off me and get ready for your mission."

Agent Jacob placed his paws on the center console and pried himself from her sweat-matted fur. He rolled away from the squirrel, lifting his thick tail and draping it over the cup-holders between the front seats. The scruffy, athletic fox shimmied his posterior across the plastic molding and slid over into the driver seat, buttoning his shirt. "Sandi, why don't we just take the cane for ourselves?"

Agent Moore reached down between her ankles and plucked his pants from the floor then tossed them at him. "Because Barkley would alert someone. Damn, AJ; just do the mission and stop being the hero." She reached down to her right ankle and snatched the lacy undergarment into her paws, sliding her left foot into the garb. She arched her back and pulled the panties up, over her knees. She stopped at the top of her thighs then forced her paw beneath herself, attaching the fastening in the waistband around the hilt of her tail. "How's your wound?"

"It was fine until ya poked it," White replied in a flat tone. "I suppose I should be grateful Inspector Fox plugged my bullet wound with a _tampon_." He pulled his legs down, beneath the steering wheel and pushed the pants down to his feet, working them up over his ankles. "I guess it kinda makes sense; they're designed to stop the flow of blood. Lord knows, it worked better than balling up my shirt and fastening it down with my belt. Still, it bruised my ego."

"Poor baby," Sandra replied. She lifted her paws to collect the skirt bunched around her waist. The squirrel changed the subject again, saying, "Damn you; I'm not wearing one of these around you anymore. Every damn stakeout, AJ… you need to stop hiking my skirt, mister."

"I'll remember that," replied the vulpine agent, fastening his pants and buckling the metallic clasp of his belt. "But remember: It was _your_ innuendo that started this… I was still behaving myself ninety minutes ago." He grinned but neither of them paid attention to the other. They exercised diligence in readying for the mission; AJ fumbled around by the brake peddle, pulling his shoes on and tying them.

"Do you have your tools?" she asked, buttoning her blouse. "Also, I need to perform a radio check. Remember," she paused, running her fingertips along the buttons of her shirt to make sure they were all fastened. Satisfied, she continued speaking. "…You only have fifteen minutes. Make sure the front door is closed when you leave; if the alarm goes off, we'll have a problem."

AJ waved his paw at her in a dismissive manner. "Yeah, yeah… I have fifteen minutes for the decoder to trick the alarm into thinking the front door is still closed. I have to close it when I leave, so that there is no interruption signal in the alarm system. I think the coffee shop opens in an hour; do you have any euros on you?"

"Will you _focus_?" she snapped. She took a moment to fluff her bangs with her fingers then added, "Yes, I have more than enough for breakfast. But if you screw up, you're not going to get _anything_."

"Hey, I'm at the top of my game," AJ announced in a confident voice. "I'm almost ready," he told her, opening the center console. He plucked a pair of night vision goggles from the storage space and placed them over his head. He felt around on the right side of the unit until his index finger brushed over the power switch. "Okay, check the radio, Sandi." He lifted a Bluetooth earpiece from the cup holder and clipped it to his right ear then sifted his fingertips back through his short, tousled bangs.

She re-lowered the passenger seat backrest and slid back into the middle row of the large SUV. Agent Moore yawned, using the backside of her left paw to cover her muzzle; her right paw groped about for the headset until her fingers came into contact with the communicator. She attached it to her head with ease and cleared her voice. "Testing; check-one, check-two, check th-th-three."

Unseen in the dim illumination, AJ winced. "It's not very clear; toy with it."

"Give me a second," she snapped in reply. After a moment of fidgeting, she cleared her throat again and said, "Radio test: how's this? Check-one, check t-t-_two_. Clear?" The intentional stammered allowed for her to test the crispness factor on 'th' sounding words and other such sounds.

"Much better," he retorted, adding a droll tone of sarcasm. "I'm off," he announced, opening the driver-side door. His eyes flitted to the interior dome light on the ceiling, to make sure it wouldn't illuminate. He slid out of the leather seat and eased the door ajar and slipped out. The fox turned away from the vehicle, placing his shoulders against the door panel then arched his back. The door clicked shut in silence. He glanced from left to right then crossed the street, heading into Chief Barkley's front yard.

The moonlight caused a temporary flare in his night vision goggles then dimmed; the white flash faded back into the familiar phosphorescent green glow. Windows on either side of the front door appeared an abysmal ebony color while the walls resembled a brilliant shade of emerald. The door, a pale jade in comparison, had a brass knocker and a double deadbolt above the knob.

AJ reached into the gear pouch on his hip and removed two devices. He placed the first overtop the two deadbolts and mashed his thumb on a large button atop the device. The machine's powerful magnet did its job, causing both tumbler bolts to slide out of place with a resounding _thunk_. He eased the door open then turned about, glancing through the dark living room. A glowing number pad jutted out of the wall, several feet from the door.

Leaving the door ajar, the stealthy vulpine approached the security control panel and placed the second device on the wall. A small LCD panel on the device illuminated and began to run through its designed program. Within seconds, the small object displayed a numerical code. AJ punched in four numbers on the security panel, disabling the alarm. He walked back to the door brandishing the same device. He peeled an adhesive strip off the side then stuck the gadget in the doorframe. Designed to electronically fool the sensors into thinking the door had been shut, he now had _fifteen minutes_ to complete his mission.

AJ reproached the security panel and enabled the alarm using the same four digit code. He stuffed the magnetic lock opener into his pocket and rummaged through his bag. After a moment, he withdrew something resembling a flashlight and activated it. The infrared flashlight's beam, invisible to the naked eye, illuminated the entire room in the night vision display. Every detail lightened with striking clarity. Even the darkest patches in the optical display now glowed like a peridot stone over a metaphorical candle.

The agent moved through the living room and into the hallway, sniffing the air. Over his earpiece, Sandra's voice sounded clear and personal, if not somewhat sensual. "This is your operator speaking, remain taciturn and I will be your guide. The bedrooms are six meters in front of you. You'll make a left at the second door; that's Barkley's room. Intel reports that he took the cane inside the house with him, when he got home. Most likely, it's in his bedroom. Check the closet and under the bed."

AJ followed her orders and didn't respond. He moved in absolute silence, tiptoeing down the hallway until he came to the second door on the left. White took a moment to offer a reticent prayer. '_Let this door open without squeaking,_' he thought with a deep breath. The agent turned the handle and pushed the bedroom door open. Elation coursed through his torso at the lack of noise from the hinges.

He shined the infrared beam around the room; it showed up as a thick pillar of light in his goggles. Locating the closet, he approached it one reserved footfall at a time. He tested every step of the floor to ensure that it wouldn't creak. His left paw lifted to the goggles and he fumbled about for a switch on the side. With a turn of the knob, his display changed from a jeweled green hue to a sharp gray and black image. He slid his padded fingertips along the device until he found another knob. It took a moment of twisting the controller but, after a few seconds of fiddling with it, the intensity changed. The clarity of the image distorted then sharpened, allowing him to see through the pine closet door.

A vaporous white outline of clothing filled his display. Thin metal triangles with hooks lined the top of the closet. He deduced they hung from a wooden pole, because it didn't show up quite as well as the metal hangers. He panned his head from left to right then his muzzle contorted into a moue of absolute disgust. With a flick of his left paw, he changed the setting on the goggles from x-ray back to night vision.

AJ turned back to the bed in the center of the room. Barkley's deep breathing brought temporary relief to the fox. He approached the bed then knelt down to peer beneath it. The Cooper family cane rested in the carpet, beneath the box-spring. He slid his left paw into the gear bag and retrieved a small yellow sticker.

Placing the infrared flashlight into his teeth, the quiet fox peeled the paper backing from the adhesive side. He pressed the circular sticker against the bottom of the cane then slid his thumb over it to guarantee its placement. AJ backed away from the bed, stood up without a sound and headed for the hallway. He shut the door behind himself then tiptoed back up the hallway.

Once outside, he shut the front door, and withdrew the electronic gadget from the doorframe. Making haste, he retrieved the magnetic device from his knapsack one more time, pressing it against the deadbolt locks. With the flip of a switch, he reversed the polarity then activated the unit. The deadbolt locks slid back into place with a satisfying metallic click. He deactivated the invisible flashlight, put it into his bag then removed the goggles, sprinting through the front yard with a grin.

He opened the driver door to the Denali and climbed up into the seat, tossing his gear into the back. "Okay, the tracking beacon is on the Cooper Cane; the mission went down without a single hitch. Can we go get coffee and a Danish now?"

In a thick German accent, the woman said, "Of course." Over her left eye, she wore a mechanical eye patch. In her right paw, resting in her lap, she held a handgun, trained on him. Her muzzle tugged into a grin then she added, "Start driving, sweetheart."

White blinked twice. "Cleo? What the hell are _you_ doing here?" He glanced over his shoulder, able to make out the vague outline of a large duffle bag on the floor between the left and right seat of the middle row. It squirmed about and a muffled female grunt could be heard. He turned back to the squirrel whose light-gray fur differed in contrast from the orange-dyed fur Sandra had before he left the car, earlier. His jaw tightened and he reached for the keys. "She's your _sister_ for Chri'sake."

"How about you shut your mouth and start driving, von Kurr?" Cleopatra retorted pulling out a silencer barrel and attaching it to the pistol. "I would advise you to react quickly… and yes, she's my sister. That's why she's still alive, Agent White. Don't worry, Jake, I didn't hurt her; I know how precious your little sex-buddy is. Now you, on the other paw, had better do as I say. I won't think twice to pull the trigger on _you_."

Looking to stall, AJ asked, "Can we at least get breakfast first? Seriously, Cleo… Sandi made me wait until after the mission."

"Shut _up_," Cleopatra growled. "We'll stop at a drive-thru but you're _not_ getting out of this car until we arrive at our destination. I wouldn't want to give you the chance to set off a distress signal, Jake." She lowered the passenger-side window then leaned back in her seat. "Drive. I'll tell you when to make a left or a right; don't try anything funny, my dear. If you do, you'll have another bullet in your gut and we wouldn't want to damage those pretty little six-pack abs, now would we?"

"How'd you know about…?"

Before he could finish, she interrupted him by clicking back the hammer on her handgun. "I said _drive_."

* * *

Interpol's World Headquarters  
200 Quai Charles de Gaulle, Lyon, France 

3:17 a.m.

**Carmelita Fox stepped through** the tinted glass doors and stretched in a ginger fashion. On either side of her, fabulous concrete sections jutted out of the building, providing a unique, artistic look. Sly Cooper stepped out from between a section of the flat, rectangular gray pillars and gave her a smile. The two began walking together, passing a row of trim hedges.

Carmelita closed her paw around his, interlacing their fingers together. On her turf, she felt the strongest of all. "I bet this is the closest you've ever been to the Interpol world headquarters." The lampposts had an inverted triangular look with flat discs upon their tops. The sidewalk and a row of small trees, bare of leaves for the winter, ran parallel to them.

"Well," Sly gave her a nervous sort of grin, glancing off in a random direction. "I suppose you _could_ be right, but…" He didn't want to start an argument with her. His expression melted into a cheery smile, saying, "Never mind that. Let's get to the airport. Beautiful Prague awaits us. Just think, Carmelita… the powerful skyline of archaic Roman Catholic cathedrals, the sculpted lines of the Jewish Synagogues, the castles and cobblestone streets."

Carmelita didn't appear to be charmed. "The modern Zizkov Television Tower, the Big Sister Brothel, the _one million, one hundred, forty-five thousand_ citizens milling about… The smoldering ruins of the People's Republic Bank in Wenceslas Square… Perhaps, over the last forty-eight days, that rubble has been cleared but I'm willing to wager there is a _huge_, _gaping_ hole; an eyesore on the entire boulevard. I'm sure it's _beautiful_." She tightened her paw around his with a quick squeeze then followed the gesture with a dazzling grin.

"Sarcasm becomes you, my dear," replied Sly. The raccoon eased his paw from hers then stopped at the top of a set of concrete stairs, facing the river. He executed a graceful somersault, coming to his feet at the bottom of the stairs. He extended his paws to her, coaxing her to jump into them from the top of the steps.

"Oh please…" She lifted her paws and rolled her eyes, trying not to grin. Descending the steps, she took his paw once more; the two turned left and walked down to the Pont Winston Churchill. They paused at the corner of the bridge and waited. A moment came to pass and a taxi cab approached. Her eyes flitted over Bentley, Penelope and Murray in the backseat. The trunk had a bungee cord to keep it closed; part of a wheelchair jutted out over the rear bumper.

Sly and Carmelita exchanged glances. She turned her gaze back to them and narrowed it; her ears lay back against curly indigo ringlets. "Please tell me you're joking. I _seriously_ have _no_ intentions of squeezing five people into the back seat. Sly and I will find another cab. Take the flight out as planned; I want to make sure we're throwing our pursuers into a bit of a tailspin. Sly and I will find alternative transportation." She slid her paw up, out of his, and took him by the wrist. "C'mon Sly."

The taxi pulled away and Sly tilted his head at the sandy-furred vixen. "What's going on? Why the sudden change of plan?"

"It's a long story," she replied, adding, "I just had a bad feeling; like we'd be putting them and all the other passengers in danger if we went with public transportation."

Cooper continued after her, heading for an empty cab across the street. "What's the plan?"

"Flex Jet," Carmelita replied. "We fly out of Bron Airport and land in Ruzyne International. Don't _you_ have nearly unlimited funding? You _are_ the unreported world's-most-independently-wealthy man alive."

Sly opened his mouth but had nothing to say. He just paused, blinking at her then bluntly replied, "…If you count everything in the family vault. But I don't have direct access via ATM. Did you want to charter a flight to the new vault on the way to Prague? Seems counter-productive doesn't it?"

She looked up, gazing into his rusty, masculine gaze with her own mocha hues. Her lips tugged at the corners, starting as a smirk but melting into a Cheshire grin of pearl incisors. "You've got enough to pay for FlexJet tickets, c'mon," she said, giving his wrist another tug then opening the rear passenger-side door to the empty taxi cab. She slid across the seat and Sly hopped in behind her. "Take us to Bron Airport," she told the cab driver then turned her attention back to Cooper and said, "Just put it on your Diner's Club Card, Sly. And just between us," she leaned in to his ear and whispered, "FlexJet will be a _little_ more kosher with me bringing firearms onboard. Where I only have to flash my badge at the FlexJet Pilot, I'd have to have documents and such to take anything on public transportation."

Sly blinked at her and said, "But you're a cop."

Carmelita placed a finger to his lips to hush him. She lowered her paws and pulled back her jacket to show him that she wore four guns, two beneath each arm. Then she lifted the bottom section of the jacket out from beneath the lap band of her seatbelt. Another two weapons rested on her hips. Last but not least, she reached down and lifted the cuff of her pants. More weapons, each secured to her inner and outer calf at the top of her boots… She smiled in satisfaction in reply to Cooper's gawking expression.

"No shock pistol?" He couldn't believe it.

Carmelita's grin turned into a dull gaze, glaring at her fiancé. "I'm not trying to _tickle_ Clockwerk. I'm trying to finish this job; I mean business. My standard _Non-Lethal _method won't work here."

Sly frowned; without his cane, he'd have to rely on a different form of offense. "Let's just hope this goes smoothly," he said with a shake of his head. "What about me?"

Carmelita nodded as if giving him some form of permission. "Deputy… _Constable_, you're my sidekick as far as I'm concerned. I brought a weapon for you."

"I guess guns just aren't my style," replied Sly with a chuckle. "But you _did_ teach me to shoot." He grinned at her, recalling their first dating period, after they'd defeated Doctor M. He remembered feeling her chest against his back with her arms around him, holding his paws against the gun. He turned to her in the taxi and smiled. "Those were good memories, Carmelita."

"Yeah." She gave him a bit of a smile and reached for his paw again. The palm of her paw slid overtop the knuckles of his. "I remember. You learned quick but always reverted to an improper stance at the range."

Sly began to chuckle, placing his other paw upon hers, sandwiching her furred hand between his. "Oh, no, I had the stance down, I just liked to slouch." He saw her confused expression and, before she could vocalize her inquiry, he said, "I knew you'd stand behind me, pressed against me to make sure I didn't slouch. So… naturally… I slouched all the time."

"Oh you little ass," she retorted, looking away from him. She clinched her paw over his, feeling his other atop of hers. It felt _comfortable_. She watched his reflection in the window then said, "It's going to be a _long_ three hours to Prague and dilly-dallying won't give us much time to do our job once we're there. So keep your paws to yourself on that plane." She turned towards him and winked.

* * *

**The Learjet 45-XR** flew through Europe, heading eastwards without delay. The cockpit door sealed the front from the cabin, leaving Sly and Carmelita alone on a comfortable leather sofa. Despite her previous warning in the taxi cab, Carmelita took it upon itself to initiate making out with Cooper. 

Her lips broke from his, nipping at the corner of his jaw and working down to his throat. Her paws roamed over his torso, pressing her palms against his shirt to explore his sculpted athletic build. Her hot breath rustled the fur of his neck and her soft blue bangs brushed against the side of his face.

Sly's muzzle parted and he smiled. "If this is what it's like when we're betrothed, just imagine how good it's going to be when we're married," he murmured into her ear. As her head dipped lower, beneath his collar, his hot whisper caused her to shutter. The warmth of his pant caused the female fox's ear to flicker against the raccoon's lips.

Her soft gasp sounded like reverse laughter, drawing in a choppy half-broken breath. The concupiscence of her heated blood burned deeper with every inch she lowered. She felt his heart pounding in his chest, beneath her lips; his excitement aroused her further. Because of love, every kiss and every touch became the best experience in her life… each better than the last. His words caused a burning ache in her body – one that only Sly could relieve.

"The relief I need," she muttered against his chest, "…is something I'll not be able to truly experience until our wedding night. And as badly as I want it, it'd better stay that way." She slid her paws down to the bottom of his shirt then reached underneath it and slid her fingers through the fur of his torso.

Sly placed his paws on either side of her muzzle, lifting her head until their eyes met. "You're worth the wait. After all, you'll _always_ be my vixen." He leaned in more than half way and she inched her lips upwards to meet with his. His jaw began to part, however slight. His soft tiers brushed against hers then his paws glided through her fur, beneath her ears. He drew her to him, deepening the kiss with intense passionate fervor.

Her mouth meshed against his, her eyes fluttered and her heart began to pound. She clung to him and swooned at the sensation of his velveteen tongue, probing passed her lips. She could feel her tongue coming to life, swirling about his much like the vortex of her own emotions. They consumed her every bit as much as _he_ consumed her. Carmelita's paws dropped from beneath his shirt, reaching up to clasp his biceps. His firm touch made her melt; she felt as though she succumbed to his physical exploration of her body. She loved every moment, soaking in the tactile pleasures.

His paws captured hers by the wrist, instinctively elevating them above her head. '_So this is what it feels like to submit to pleasure,_' she thought, somewhere at the back of her mind. Her knuckles brushed against the leather sofa and her hair fanned out around her head. Carmelita became so enamored by his firm and affectionate actions that she failed to realize one thing: how swiftly he managed to lay her back on the cushions.

His weight upon her felt like a comfortable blanket. With his paws, he pinned her forearms to the leather above her head. Her muffled words came out against his lips. "I never knew it could be _this_ good." She lifted her left leg, hooking it around his waist and she grinded her body upwards. His physical reply caused her to whimper with desire. Then, something broke her concentration…

"Attention, this is your captain," said the voice over the announcement system. "We'll be landing in the city of Prague momentarily.

Sly grinned against her lips. "Want me to tell him to circle a few times?"

"Dammit," she groused. "No, we're on a time table. Crap; I thought we had more time." She slumped into the couch, watching Sly withdraw. Her eyes followed him to a seat, where he fastened his safety belt then she moved off of the leather sofa, to a nearby seat, readying herself for landing. "Dammit if I shouldn't have stuck with what I'd told you in the taxi. When we land, get our bags; I'm going to use the bathroom and freshen up."

* * *

**The Cooper Gang** paraded through the concourse. Carmelita had her left arm around Bentley's shoulders and her right arm around Penelope's shoulders, a posture that seemed very _unlike_ her normal self. "I think the two of you can rig up Clockwerk's big body to explode, right? You can get into the frame, take the weapon systems offline, then rig it to shut down and detonate, right? If we steal the body, rig it, then transfer his brain back to the big one, we'll destroy him for good. The small body can be turned into scrap metal and we can all go home." 

Bentley reached up to adjust his glasses and said, "These days, I pride my plans on how devious and conniving I can be, Miss Fox. But when something this simple, this delightful and this wily comes my way, I'm equally impressed. Your scheming makes me take my metaphorical hat off to you, Inspector. It's truly Machiavellian."

"Well, thanks," she said. "I think. Anyhow, vixens are notably cunning, crafty and sneaky. How else do you think I keep up with Sly?" She lifted her gaze to the raccoon, offered a wink then returned her attention to Penelope and Bentley. "I want to get in, get the information, do the research and draw up the plan as soon as possible. Be as conniving and underhanded as possible. I want to blow his ass up, but look in his eyes before he bursts. I want you to be as circuitous, meandering and oblique as possible."

Bentley's face lit up. "Why, Inspector, I had no idea that you had such a wonderful grasp on the art of vocabulary."

Carmelita nuzzled the side of his head, glad he would help her destroy Clockwerk. The destruction of Clockwerk meant getting back to having a normal relationship with Cooper and putting his past behind them both. "Why should I be a wordsmith when half of what comes out of my muzzle is _vituperative_, when chasing criminals?"

"OH, for joy, Sly really _is_ going to be dating an intellect. This pleases me so; you have no idea!" exclaimed the tortoise.

"Don't worry, Inspector," said Penelope. The mouse's small physical build only stacked as tall as Carmelita's chin. "We'll rebuild him opposite of quicker, faster and better than before. But remember his outer shell; the diamond Monoloy veneer is the focal point, here. You can't defeat him by blowing him up, because the frame can withstand anything. A nuclear blast would simply send him flying, where it would vaporize just about anything else. We don't know his melting temperature or if it's feasible to generate such heat. As far as his mechanical guts, though, consider him toast."

"That's what I want to hear," Carmelita replied. She gave both nerds a firm pat on the back then quickened her pace, reproaching Cooper. "Now, you'll have to spy on the men involved with Atlantis to pull this off. They're holding the full-sized body here but we don't know where, yet. I want you to head into the streets and get information. Bentley will scour the Internet and I will start by running investigations on all incoming shipments of every-and-anything that has come to Prague over the last several days. I saw it in Atlantis, now it's here. We WILL find it."

Sly offered a smile and opened the terminal doors for her and his group, leading out to the traffic thruway. He cleared his throat and Carmelita glanced back at him over her shoulder. "Remember, sweetheart, we've only got one day before Clockwerk begins watching us. Tomorrow, he'll look for us in France and demand a decision. When he doesn't find us, he'll come here and see that we're already working on it. That keeps him off our backs, directly. But it won't be long before he's watching our every move, concerning this _body_."

"Then we'd better hurry," she retorted.

* * *

A/N: _Short chapter, I know. I sowwy! It's been a while. I know a short chapter isn't worth the wait, but I've been starting a brand new job as a night manager at Blockbuster Video and all that stuff. Plus I've updated Reflections of Fox McCloud, a StarFox story, and Claws of Fate, a Castlevania story! And I wrote this chapter in February, hated it, and re-wrote it from scratch three weeks later. Then, I wanted to put more action into THIS chapter, but I suppose I never got around to it… So, we'll be blowing things up in the next chapter, know what I mean? _

_Woo!_

_Be back soon!_


	13. Following the COOPER KEY

Chapter -**13**-  
"Following the Cooper Key"

_Meanwhile, back in __Bayern, Germany__…_

**Agent ****White ****glanced ****over at**** Cleo**** in silence**. He tugged on one of his whiskers keeping his other paw on the wheel. The fox offered her a frown but she didn't react. "You're normally not this callous, Cleopatra. You really should let Saundra out of the bag. I mean, we've not even stopped for a bathroom break."

In her usual German dialect, she muttered, "Are you serious?" Cleo looked up for the first time in three hours. "I've been so proud of you, Jake… you've been setting the land speed record for me and, suddenly, you want to chitchat? You've been quiet since we got gas, like I asked… and now this?"

White glanced at the gas tank. The GMC Denali, outfitted with propane tanks, filled at sixty-seven cents per gallon before leaving France. The cast-iron block engine thirsted for propane, running at about eighteen miles per gallon, even with the Denali's Displacement on Demand V-8. "We were stopped a few miles south of the Luxembourg line; we've certainly zigzagged on this eastward journey. We should stop for gas again, soon."

"Propane is more expensive in Germany than Diesel, because we determine cost by the octane rating in this country," replied the baroness. "I expect you to put it on a charge card. You're right; we'll all stop to use the bathroom but we're in a hurry."

"What's the goddamn deal, Moore? Why've you got your sister in a bag, anyhow?"

Cleopatra smiled. The squirrel shifted to face him. Her mismatched eyes bore into the side of his face for a moment until he glanced over at her again. She shrugged then said, "Saundra can't get into trouble for not checking in if she's at gunpoint or physically unable. Right now, she's physically unable. I cannot believe you slept with her _again_, Jake. You _know_ she's married, young man."

Jacob White looked away, unwilling to be guilt-tripped by the woman. "I'll find a service station that sells propane. What's the deal, though? You're having two CIA agents drive you back through Germany at gunpoint; are you insane?"

Cleopatra narrowed her mismatched eyes. The squirrel leaned back in her seat then glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard radio. She took a moment to compensate for the time zone change then glanced up at the dark sky. Ahead of them, the horizon began to lighten in the distance. "We less than two hours before sunrise. Let's stop at the nearest station. We have a long way to go before we're in Prague. We don't have a lot of time, Jake. I'll let Saundra go at the next stop, how does that sound?"

"You will?" AJ tilted his head in confusion. "So why are we going to Prague, anyhow?"

Cleo reached for Saundra's PDA in the cup holder then tapped on the screen with her fingernail. After a moment she smirked then folded her arms. As soon as White pulled up to a fuel pump, she thrust the small device into his face. He craned his head and squinted at the small screen. His eyes widened.

"Now you understand," she snorted with a roll of her eyes. "The Cooper cane is on the move at a high rate of speed. It will probably pass over us in the next five minutes on its way to Prague. Someone plans to use it as the key to the Cooper Vault. They want access to it. You and Saundra put a tracking device on it, which will lead _me_ right to it."

"I see you're well informed, as usual." AJ chuckled. "Plan on using it to pickpocket people, Cleo? C'mon, now… Even with the key to the Cooper Vault, no one even knows where it is located."

"Kane Island," replied Moore with a smirk. "It's in the South Pacific. Two of the Cooper gang members helped to rebuild its defense parameter from the inside of the island to the outside of the vault… Now someone has the key. It'll take quite a person to defeat the traps and defenses but once they best it, all they need is that cane. Didn't you know that Cooper has been shadowed all along?"

"First I've heard of it," replied the Reynard. He shut off the engine and tossed the keys to the baroness then slid out of the vehicle and opened the back door. He untied the bag but there was no squirrel dressed as a chipmunk. He narrowed his eyes and frowned at a mechanical puppet in the burlap bag. Its batteries died over an hour ago, which had left him to believe that Saundra fell asleep; he stood there, staring at the puppet in the bag. "Okay, misdirection – very good, you got me… where is your sister?"

"I'm not really sure," said Cleopatra. "She's either waiting for us on Kane Island by now, or she's already in Prague, checking to make sure the path ahead is clear. So, technically, I've only kidnapped _one_ CIA agent… Either that reduces my sentence by half the time or you're dumber than I thought."

"Either you're really Saundra and you reverted your dye coloration quickly and put in a contact lens… or you've let Cammie go and _she_ stole the cane and took it east on a leer jet."

Cleopatra scowled. "Why do you insist on calling my sister by her ridiculous stage name? Chameleon? What kind of idiot joke is that? I could always see through her cheesy disguises, Jake – chameleon _indeed_. I'm sure my brother-in-law would appreciate it if I struck you in the face; you should feel so lucky he doesn't know you've been in her pants. Now I bet you don't feel quite so guilty about me not giving your precious Saundra a bathroom break. No, my sister didn't take the staff, either. Fill the tank; we're in a hurry."

AJ just gawked at her for a moment. "All right… can I contact Saundra first? I want …to talk to her, just to be sure."

"You want to be sure we're not the same person, yes?" The baroness snorted softly then cleared her throat. "You'll just have to believe me for right now. You'll find out the honest answer, sooner or later. Let's hurry, we're still several hours from Prague and _I_ have plans to _help_ that girl get her case solved because it helps _my_ mandate."

"Carmelita Fox? You're talking about the Inspector who is betrothed to Sly Cooper, right?"

Cleopatra smirked. "Yes, Carmelita Fox… who else would I be talking about, you moron? Goodness, I cannot believe _I_ slept with you, too. Why can't I find attractive men who are equally _intelligent_? You have a pretty face and a nice body but I have to wonder if you've ever tried rubbing two brain cells together, even once."

"Touché, Cleo. I let Intel do the thinking. That's why I'm the man of action." Leaving the driver-side door open, he reached for a gas pump and held it up with a slight grin. "See this action right here?"

Baroness Moore rolled her eyes and said, "At any rate, shut your muzzle and get us back on the road, Jake."

* * *

**Carmelita Fox** quirked a brow at the courier in the doorway. She glanced over her shoulder to Penelope and Murray, back in the living room of the Safe House then turned to the courier once more. "Who?" 

"Sly Cooper, ma'am. This is a package for him. He is at this address, correct?"

She frowned, studying the man's face for a moment. Carmelita nodded then took the package and looked it over. Finally, she lifted her head and asked, "How did you know he'd be here?"

The courier shrugged and, in his broken attempt at French, told her, "I'm just doing what I'm told and am the only courier at my office that speaks this language." He offered her a smile. She fished out ten Euros then handed them to the courier as a tip. His smile broadened. "Thank you ma'am!" He turned back for his van.

Carmelita shut the door behind herself and turned to the mouse and hippo with a frown. "Sly received a package; someone knows we're here. That's… awkward." A noise upstairs caused her ears to flicker. "Speak of the devil and he appears." She took to the stairs with the package and headed into an empty bedroom. Sly stood in front of an open window and removed his gear. She approached him and pushed the package into his paws with her brows furrowed.

"What's this?"

"Open it," she told him. "The courier just delivered it to _you_ at this address. I guess you really _are_ being shadowed, Ringtail. Open it."

Sly blinked twice then leaned back against the windowsill. He opened the package with his teeth then reached a gloved paw into the wrapping. He pulled out a shiny golden revolver with an eight-round cylinder. The gun, shaped like a small version of his family cane, glistened in the dim illumination from the sunrise in the window. "It's like the ones Tennessee Kid used, but his were both six-shot revolvers… this one holds _eight_… how strange." He quirked a brow then asked, "It was delivered just _now_? At six in the morning?"

"Damn straight," said the vixen with her paws on her hips. "And it's illegal to deliver weapons like that; is there a serial number on it? We can find out who it's registered to."

Sly took a moment to inspect it then said, "No number – it looks handcrafted and I'm not sure there ever _was_ a number… I don't see anything, not even something that has been filed off."

"That's odd…" Carmelita took the wrapping from him and peered into it. "There's a letter," she added. She took the small envelope from inside the wrapping paper and opened it. She cleared her throat then read aloud. "It's not your cane but you'll need this all the same. Meet me at the enclosed address but come alone. You don't have much time before sunrise so be prompt. Bring the Thievius Raccoonus – there is something I wish to teach you about the book that you didn't know before. Sincerely, _Old Man_."

Sly sheathed the short cane on his belt. The 'C' shape hook had a textured grip, used as the gun handle. On the side, someone had carved the initials T.K.C using a sharp object. Sly crossed the room and took the family book from his rucksack. He turned to Carmelita, kissed the side of her face then said, "I'll be back; I know this is a little odd… especially for me, but I need you guys to wait."

"Sly, we have less than twelve hours remaining!"

"Carmelita, there were only _three_ known pistol canes in existence that belonged to Tennessee Kid Cooper. Only two of them were ever found in the family vault. I don't have access to them because my cane is the key. So, either someone has already accessed the vault and sent me one, or this is the missing third gun. He kept one on each hip, and one hidden in his belt at the base of his spine – just in case. I've got to know what this is all about."

Fox frowned and lowered her eyes to the floor for a moment. "Be careful, Sly. They want you to bring the book, come alone and you don't have your cane. It could be a trap."

Sly withdrew the weapon from his belt and checked the chamber. Eight shells filled the revolver cylinder. He glanced back at her and said, "Do you _smell_ a trap?"

"…No," she replied. "No one sends you a gun for protection if they intend to take you out… Just be safe." She lifted her paws and placed them on either side of the small cane-shaped gun. She eased the revolving cylinder back into its place with a click then guided his paws until he returned the weapon to his belt. "I see that it doesn't have a safety feature. Be very careful with it, so that it doesn't go off on your hip. I expect that weapon to have eight shells in it when you return, all right?"

"It will." He offered her a smile, grabbed the wrapping paper, tore off the corner with the return address, and winked at his fiancé. Sly turned back to the window and leapt through it. He knew she stood in the window and watched him leave so he performed a somersault just to show off.

* * *

**Fifteen minutes later,** Cooper stopped in front of the address on the card. He lifted his head and whistled low, impressed by the size of the castle in front of him. The left tower resembled a church's rotunda – like a cathedral. The right tower, rectangular and about four stories tall appeared complete with a large bronze bell. It glowed in the soft morning sunlight which peaked up over the east hills. The main gates, equally impressive, stood almost two stories tall before him. He easily slid through the gap between the massive iron bars and approached the structure with a reverent silence. 

"Sly Cooper?" The voice startled him. Cooper whirled around but saw nothing. The voice called again. "Sly Cooper, you're at the wrong door. Come to the rear window on the fourth floor, on the bell tower. See you there." Quiet resumed.

Cooper blinked rapidly then made his way around to the far right end of the property. He looked up the side of the bell tower but could not see any easy way to scale the wall. He searched for a drainage spout then looked for hooks or maintenance latches used for repair scaffolding. "This isn't going to be as easy as I thought," he muttered. Sly removed the handgun from his belt then twirled the short hooked cane. He brought the clawed end to the masonry and, with a slow and steady paw, made his ascent.

He reached the open window near the top of the tower beneath the large bell. He slid in, feet first then dropped to a wooden plank. A thick rope reached from the bell down to the bottom. He placed the short cane into his muzzle, reached out and gave a light tug but the bell didn't move. He furrowed his brows and tugged just a little harder but the bell remained solid. He lifted his head and narrowed his gaze. In the dark, he saw the large metal wand used inside the bell to make it ring – he wondered why it remained silent. Sly shrugged then jumped from the plank to the rope and, yet, the bell never moved. He slid down the thick line with ease; a cloud of dust greeted his feet at the bottom of the tower shaft.

'_I know __I'm__ a lightweight but that thing didn't even budge… good for me, though! It was way more fun than taking the stairs!'_ He blinked out of his reverie and broke into a sprint through the main section of the citadel. The walls were lined with pricy artifacts from all over the world but the chandeliers seemed reminiscent of the American Midwest. They looked out of place in a gothic structure such as this; the steelwork frames would have been better suited for an old saloon. '_I've been in enough museums to know __those shouldn't be here,_' he thought.

Stairs took him to the second floor. These hallways held artifacts from the early nineteen hundreds. From Thompson machine guns to German and English uniforms, the decorations covered everything from railroad and automobile parts to gear from the First World War. By the end of the hall, he'd reached a picture frame with baseball cards in it. Honus Wagner, Mickey Mantle, Babe Ruth, Willie Mayes and other baseball greats filled the frame from top to bottom. Sly took the stone staircase up to the third floor.

From the Second World War through to the sixties, the third floor hallway held French Paintings, warfare gear, German vases, An American Apollo spacesuit and many other fantastic artifacts. A picture frame held a tile from a Japanese building. The brass plate read, 'A-BOMB Hiroshima Dome – Floor tile, second of January, 1946.' There were other decorations but Sly didn't recognize them.

On the fourth floor hallway, Sly passed technologically superior decorations that defined the seventies and eighties. An old Cray supercomputer sat in a glass case. It was cylindrical and about three feet high. Filled with hundreds of chips and such, the plate on its display case read, "First computer to reach '100mhz' – comprised of one hundred fifty-five microprocessor components – Obtained on the fourth of April, 1982." There were trinkets and gadgets all along the walls. In a prominent display case, a strange looking contraption, about the size of a watermelon, sat on a stand. The plate read, "Only known prototype – Brilliant Pebbles – Star Wars Defense Program – September ninth, 1987." An adjacent case had the burned out metal lining from a NASA helmet. The plaque read, "Challenger Shuttle – sadly lost in 1986." Sly shuttered.

He continued to the end of the hall. A large room opened up before him. It resembled a living room, complete with a large sofa, loveseat, large screen television and floor rugs. A coffee table had a remote control on it, next to a letter. Sly approached cautiously. In plain black ink, the letter read, "_Turn around_" in large font. Sly whirled about, coming face to face with a very old man and his walker. The ocelot placed a gnarled old paw on Sly's shoulder and smiled. Cooper realized the man had a plastic tube against his nose, which trailed back over his ears.

"Do I know you?"

The ocelot shook his head slowly. "No, but I know _you_, Sly. Let me get a good look at you…" His weary old voice crackled. "Did you bring the book?"

"I… yeah," said Cooper, adding, "I mean… yes, Sir. I brought the book." He blinked at the leering old man then asked, "How did you get that revolver? It's a family heirloom."

"You think?" asked the old man. He smiled again. "It was his trick gun; people heard him unload 6 shots, thought he was empty then were shocked when he had two more rounds." His teeth looked white and new, suggesting to Sly that they were dentures. The ocelot cleared his throat then said, "Did you know I'm _one hundred fourteen_ years old? When I was only _sixteen_, I ran jobs with the son of Tennessee Kid… his name was Sylvester Cooper. He inherited T.C.'s revolvers and became _very_ good with them. Back then, we called him Silver instead of Sylvester, because he moved like a silver bullet. He was the oldest in the gang at the age of thirty-six."

Sly's eyes widened. "You ran with my great-great grandfather?" His eyes lowered to the ocelot's paw. The old man gestured to the sofa and Cooper nodded politely. He moved to the cushions and sat. He then said, "I heard he was one of only a handful of family members who never wrote in the Thievius Raccoonus."

The ocelot nodded and moved to the other end of the sofa. He sat down and left his walker between his right knee and the coffee table. "He never invented a signature move. Clockwerk killed him before he had the chance. The family wondered if your father, Connor, would ever come up with his own move at one point; you were born and he still didn't have his own move. Your grandparents and great grandmother passed away from age before Connor could finish his signature move. The year before his death at the hands of that metal monstrosity, he came up with something very fitting for the times… laser sliding; I'm right, aren't I?"

"He never had the chance to write about it," Sly admitted with a frown. "But he did teach me how to do it in the family vault, in a matter of speaking. I've rarely used the maneuver but I _know_ how to do it."

The little old man frowned as well. "Sylvester was the only Cooper I know of, who never came up with his own move. He became damn good at doing everyone else's moves but… never had his own." He offered his paw to Sly again and said, "I'm Charlie. I was the sidekick… there were only two of us for the first few years… I was a kid but I was pretty damn sharp. I could look at a pile of coins and guesstimate how many; I was never wrong, either. I kept his guns clean and loaded, I saddled his horses and, later, drove. I memorized charts and maps for him, so he didn't have to worry about it. When he died, I put most of his belongings into the hands of his kids and had them put most of his things into the vault. They simply donated them to Tennessee Kid's pile, including the revolver canes. Well, two of them anyhow."

Sly nodded slowly then lowered his eyes. "I never came up with a move, either. I'm trying to think of something good but…"

"Nonsense," said Charlie with a soft chuckle. "You came up with the best damned move of the _whole family_."

Cooper blinked. "I did?"

"You sure as heck did, young man!" Charlie leaned back in the sofa cushions then shook his head with a smirk. "You figured out how to kill Clockwerk… not once, but _twice_. Anyone can do a difficult trick once and be lucky… but you perfected it by performing it two times in a row. And now, you're going to do an encore and pull off a hat trick."

Sly gawked at the old man. "I …suppose. But the thing is…"

The ocelot held up his gnarled paw in a half-fist. "…Ya lost your cane. I heard – damn shame, kid. Lucky for you it's here in Prague." He saw Sly's reaction and smiled. "Yeah, being sharp like that is what earned me my keep. I was Silver's bread and butter… He was batman and I was robin. Then batgirl came along… She wasn't quite Yoko Ono Lennon, mind you, but she distracted him. She became his wife, gave him some strapping young sons and daughters but couldn't get it together. She was trying to mother those pups _and_ keep up with a master thief. Clockwerk snatched her when she wasn't paying attention and used her as bait to catch Silver."

Cooper shifted his weight. "What happened… rather, how did it happen?"

Charlie face faulted. "We had a heist, here in Prague; this old building was just an abandoned manor at the time. We used it as our Safe House. She disappeared and Clockwerk sent out a challenge and an address. We geared up to get her back but it was a trap. That metallic bastard killed them both – I got away with nothing more than survivor's guilt. I quit the business and became a fulltime parent. They were my godchildren; I had to do my best to keep them below radar. It was a sad ending and when _your_ father died, a lot of animosity towards that owl came back to me. I don't have much longer to live and, after you defeated Clockwerk the first time, I thought I could finally die in peace."

Sly blinked rapidly. He remained quiet, listening to the old man talk.

Charlie continued. "But those pieces showed up, because they didn't melt in the lava. When you were captured, here in Prague, I used the Internet to send that tortoise-kid information to help him out. He was out in the Haitian jungle and I did my best to lead him all the way here. I got him a little information on the detention center. I even told him where a tank could be found… Your driver, Murray, was pretty good behind the controls if I remember correctly. I watched on as you and that vixen cop destroyed Clockwerk a _second_ time. I thought that was finally the last of that thing. Make it count, this time."

"I will," said Cooper. He tilted his head and asked, "Where is the cane? I thought for sure it was destroyed…"

"Buried, but not destroyed. I have my sources, young man… that cane is here. One of my Newsy boys called me less than an hour ago. He works at the airport in the security department. I sent that courier to your Safe House as quickly as I could. Anyhow, I'm not sure where it is, other than the fact that it's _here_ in Prague, right now. One more thing… Did you _really_ propose to that fox cop?"

Sly nodded. The old man folded his arms over his frail torso and asked, "Why a vixen? Call me old fashion, but what's wrong with finding a nice raccoon girl?"

"I, uh… To be honest…"

Charlie held his boney fingers up. "I know, kid… you love her. Fair enough – but be careful – she's a cop, y'know? Anyhow, I…" The elderly animal froze and lifted his ears. "Someone is here." He stood up and reached for his walker then came to his feet. "Either you got sloppy and someone followed you, or I've got some punk intruder breaking and entering… Wouldn't _that_ be karma?"

Sly stood up and moved around the other end of the sofa but Charlie placed a paw on his elbow and said, "Cool your jets, kiddo. Let's get some information on these slimeballs, first. I've turned almost a dozen teenaged would-be amateur thieves into real talent by catching them here… After Clockwerk killed Silver and his wife, I stayed here… this was our Safe House and, yet, it was the _last _place Clockwerk would look for the Cooper children, because he has profiled us as the type to move on… He thinks the Cooper line borders on nomadic. I've been in this old manner for a _very_ long time. I've raised a lot of wayward kids here… It's what I do."

"I don't hear anything," Sly replied.

"I do; I know this place inside and out. I heard a noise downstairs. Come with me." He made his way out of the living room and Sly followed. They carefully descended the stone stairwell to the third floor and walked down the hall to the stairs at the far end. "I've lived so long because this place was designed with a stairwell at the end of each hallway… It keeps you in shape, that's for sure." He took Sly's arm and went down the stairs to the second floor. Once there, he said, "I asked you to bring the Cooper family book because I wanted to show you something in T.C.'s entry… he invented that rail slide but he never thought it was good enough. We've had acrobats sliding down staircase handrails for ages – he amended his technique to something far more grand but wrote it using the ink of a European alchemist… It's invisible, young man. I'll show you how to read it later, after we find out what's going on downstairs."

"Are you sure you're not hearing things? The noise would have had to travel a very long way in a carpeted hallway – I heard nothing and…"

Charlie snorted with disdain. "Hush up; I'm old but I'm not senile. My ears are sharper now than they were over thirty years ago. I heard something. They're being quieter than some young teenage thug… We're not dealing with a proletarian by the sound of things. This _could_ be serious. Don't worry, I'll protect you if it's something sinister." He grinned at Sly.

"Proletarian?"

"…A _r__ecreational_ thief. Whoever this is, they're a _professional_ – they're too quiet now. Kids make all sorts of noise… heavy footfalls, loud breathing, and you can smell the adrenaline a mile away. No, whoever it is, they're as quiet as you were, when you got in ten minutes ago." The ocelot moved swiftly for his age. The small plastic wheels on the front of the walker made it easier to go.

Sly watched him as the two continued down the hall. "Man, you really book on that thing, old timer." The raccoon watched as the old man moved to the left side of the staircase. He went to the right side and waited in the corner, opposite of the elderly man. Several moments passed. Sly opened his mouth to argue what the old man heard but before the raccoon could get a word out the ocelot shushed him with a silent gesture.

A tall, lanky Czechoslovakian wolfhound walked through the concrete arch with a silenced handgun drawn. Charlie drew back his gnarled old paw and thrust fingertips into the unsuspecting man's throat. The canine collapsed to the floor, dropping the gun on the carpet. He reached for his throat, gagging so loud his voice created an echo further down the hall. Charlie wrapped his free paw around the man's hair and held him down while shaking his other paw.

"You got him pretty good," Sly said, adding, "Are you okay? You didn't break your fingers did you?"

"I don't have osteoporosis, kiddo; I have _arthritis_… different beast." Charlie lowered his head and asked, "What brings you to my house with that fine looking forty-five caliber pistol, punk?"

The wolfhound struggled to breathe. A smile tugged at the corner of the ocelot's wrinkly muzzle. "Calm down, you're in shock like a fish out of water… I didn't break yer neck, ya lil' prick. I just gotcha in a sensitive place. Calm down and take a breath through yer nose, ya shmuck." He tugged on the canine's hair and then said, "C'mon, macaroni ears… get up on your knees." He guided the man up off the floor and continued to chide him. "That's right, blockhead, up-see-daisy. I espy your noisy footfalls from a mile away, ya bum." He placed the walker on the weapon to ensure the man wouldn't be able to pick it up.

"Hey, you're pretty sharp – you got him down in one hit," Sly said, adding, "but the Thirties called… they want their insults back."

Charlie looked up at the raccoon and furrowed a bushy gray brow. "And what insults are those?"

Cooper chuckled. "Blockhead? _Macaroni ears_? I hope little old men didn't 'talk dirty' to little old ladies like that sixty or seventy years ago."

The ocelot replied with a smirk. "And sixty or seventy years ago, I was still _older_ than you are now. So hush up." He turned back towards the struggling gunman and added, "Our friend, here, should have his breath back any second and he's about to tell us what's going on and why he broke in with a silenced forty-five."

The Czech native drew a shallow breath and muttered, "Sly Cooper… price on his head." He wheezed then said, "Need… my gun… to stop…" The man broke into a fit of coughing.

Charlie glanced up at Sly and smiled. "Ah, finally, one of the bad guys emerges from his hole. The plot thickens – it's about time; it gives you a clue to track down so you can figure out what's going on, who has your cane and why they'd want it. It sounds like this bum is trying to cash in on the price someone put on your head. I'm surprised… I had no idea you even had a bounty on ya'. He probably wants to stop you from getting your cane back or from completing your current job, whatever it may be."

Sly's eyes widened. "The tenth piece is in the vault!" Cooper brought his right palm to his forehead. "By saving Carmelita, I lost my cane during the building collapse. I thought nothing of it… if anything, I figured it keeps people from retrieving the tenth artifact but… now I've inadvertently given away the key to the vault. This is _really_ bad."

Suddenly, the wolfhound jerked his elbow back into the walker, snatched the gun in his other paw and pointed it at Cooper. He fired the weapon just as the ocelot smacked him in the back of the head with the boxy metal contraption. One of the walker's wheels broke off and tumbled down the hall. The gunman spilled over on the floor in silence with his face down.

The raccoon blinked then reached to rub his ears. "I could hear the hiss of a bullet; good thing he had a silencer or we'd both be deaf." He felt something wet and brought his paw down to inspect it. "Holy crap," he said, seeing the blood on his fingertips. "He clipped the tip of my ear!" A loud thump startled both Sly and Charlie into silence. Both turned to face a slumped figure in the corner behind one of the display cases.

Cooper touched the tip of his ear and inspected the blood again then moved towards the shadowy figure in the corner. "What in the world…?" He knelt down besides a slender body clad in a leather cat suit. The person wore a ninja-style mask over their face and lay in a puddle of their own blood. They held a dagger in each paw; Sly used his feet to kick each weapon away then waved for Charlie. "Look at this, old timer. They're still alive, too." He tilted his head, following the curvature of the body with his eyes. "Androgynous; I can't tell if it's a guy or a girl."

"Take off the mask."

Sly knelt down and closed his fingertips around the perpetrator's mask. He gave it a stern tug then frowned. "Female weasel. She's still conscious but she's lost a lot of blood." He paused to check her body then reported, "She got it in the right lung. She's not going to last very long."

Charlie ambled over to Sly and the wounded woman. He placed the wobbly walker over her stomach, using the left and right side to pin down her forearms. "Who're you working for? Clockwerk?"

The woman's eyes opened and she groaned. "That idiot worked for _us_ but now he's gone rogue." She tilted her head to the side and peered up at the face of her intended target. "I've always been jealous of Carmelita Fox. I was jealous of Karla Chintzy. I wanted you for myself, Sly Cooper. Yet, I didn't even flinch when ordered to kill you. You should feel lucky that Donovan's cult following remembers and honors the truce you had with him. I thought they disbanded after his death – apparently I was mistaken."

"She's in shock," Charlie replied. His eyes flitted from Sly to the woman and he frowned. "Shall I call an ambulance for you?" In response, the woman shook her head 'no' then sighed. A soft gurgle accompanied the sound of her breath. The elderly man continued to lean on his walker, keeping her forearms pinned to the ground. "Check her for weapons, Sly. Assassins usually don't give up just because they're on their death bed. I don't want her dying here, because it attracts unwanted attention to my home."

Sly did as he was asked and frisked her arms, legs and torso. He found a pair of sais in holsters beneath her. He withdrew a knife from her sleeve and a tube with darts on her left leg. Cooper reached for the zipper to her cat suit, just beneath her jaw.

"Don't," she whispered. "I'm not exactly decent beneath it."

Charlie placed a paw on Sly's shoulder. "Just frisk for weapons; if you unzip that thing, she'll die sooner. It looks pretty tight on her; I imagine it adds pressure to her wound."

Sly lifted his eyes to the old man then lowered them back to the assassin. "She'll drown before she dies of blood loss. She has a lot of blood in her right lung. If we don't get her out of this, she'll die of asphyxiation before she drowns. I'm trying to keep her alive – the more she talks, the more we know."

"You'd better be a gentleman," she muttered between shallow breaths. She frowned then added, "Why don't you just take me out to a back alley and let me die there, hmm?"

Sly unzipped the front of the leather bodysuit and pulled the right flap aside. He pushed his right index finger against the entry point of her wound, ignoring her hiss of pain. Cooper pushed his other paw beneath her, down under the back of her suit and felt for an exit wound. He plugged it with his fingers then said, "Clothes like this can't possibly be comfortable, lady."

She hissed in pain again then muttered, "The interior has a lining so it doesn't chafe. Just get me out of here. I can live with one lung, dammit. I just…"

Charlie cut her off. "If she thinks she can pull through this, then she's still dangerous. Especially to _you_, Sly."

Cooper glanced back up at the old man and frowned. "I can feel old scar tissue on her chest and back; she's taken bullets in the torso before… feels like..." he paused then said, "Two other times, same side."

"Three," she grumbled. "I took one beneath the heart three years ago. Oh, and furthermore, he wasn't carrying a forty-five, you senile old goat; if he was, I'd be dead and Mister Cooper wouldn't have an ear." She cut her attention to Sly then said, "You'd better not have any blood-related diseases. You have blood from your ear on your paw and now you're sticking your fingers in my gun wounds. If you do, I'm going to tear you apart."

Sly cocked a brow then furrowed the other. "For a dispassionate, cold blooded assassin, you sure don't strike me as…"

"Just tell me if you're clean or not," she snapped. "I know you're a Casanova – it's your personality trait. Are you clean, raccoon?"

Sly glanced about furtively then leaned down and whispered into her ear. "I'm a virgin, lady. Outgoing doesn't equate to promiscuity. I've got your blood on my fingers, now… maybe I should be asking _you_ the same thing."

"Obsessively so," she replied. "My body is a temple."

Sly canted his head and sat up with a frown. "For a woman who worries so much about disease and cleanliness, you don't seem very concerned about lead poisoning." He looked back up at Charlie and told him, "She's right, old timer. This hole doesn't feel very big; are you sure it was a forty-five round?"

Charlie glanced back at the gun on the ground, several feet from the unconscious canine. He turned back to Sly and frowned. "It looks like one from here; I know my guns – I worked with the son of Tennessee Kid Cooper, he was a crack-shot pistol marksman. He was a sharpshooter of the wild west, young man."

"Just check it; don't worry, she's unarmed."

The ocelot frowned then removed the walker from her forearms. Once he lifted the rectangular object from across her stomach and wrists, she gasped as though she surfaced from a deep swimming pool. Charlie glanced back at her then smirked. "Faker." He moseyed over to the weapon then kicked it over to Cooper. "I've got arthritis in my lower back, kiddo. _You_ pick it up."

Sly face-faulted. "I'm using _both_ my paws to plug her wounds so she doesn't bleed to death in your home, Sir. Not only that…"

Sly found himself interrupted. The woman snatched the weapon off the floor and pointed it in the raccoon's face. He froze and Charlie did the same. She smirked then said, "The safety is off, the weapon is cocked. The old man says it looks like a forty-five… he's right. It looks and feels like one. There's only one way to find out what kind of ammunition this weapon uses." She smiled in a display of brilliant white incisors. "This is too perfect. I'll kill you with this gun, then the old man… and let Donovan Loupe's little fanatic take the fall. The police will see that his death coincided to your last visit to Prague, assume his motivation was revenge, then write it off."

"There's just one problem with your theory," said Sly. "Your blood is on the wall, floor and carpet. Aren't you types supposed to vanish without a trace? You'll need a power washer just to get it out of the grout not to mention…"

"Shut up!" she shouted. Everyone froze. The woman ground her teeth together then said, "You're right. I'd need a professional cleaner to get away without a trace. My employer is paying me for stealth, so the only way I can accomplish that is to kill you down by the river and let a fisherman find you." She turned to the ocelot and said, "And you'll just have to disappear, since you're known as a hermit anyhow. That will buy me the time I need to erase any trace of my presence _here_." She turned the weapon on Charlie and said, "Help me up, or I'll shoot the old man where he stands."

Sly gritted his teeth but complied with her request. He kept his fingers in the bullet wounds to the best of his ability while helping the woman to her feet. Looking to stall, he asked, "Let's get you a t-shirt or something, so you're covered. It's cold outside and you can't go around half-exposed in front of three men. I'm sure Charlie has some shirts or a sweater upstairs."

She thought about it then nodded. "Old man, you take point; we'll follow you. Go."

Charlie turned his damaged walker around then muttered. "With a broken wheel, it's not going to work very damn well in the carpet. C'mon, this way."

The woman rolled her eyes, keeping the weapon trained on the old man. "Whose fault is that for putting a strip of carpet in the middle of your hallways? Even worse, you have stone flooring on the far left and right of the carpeting, by the walls. You should have put in tile, marble or wood panel floors."

Charlie began making his way up the hall. He waved his left paw back at her in a dismissive fashion. "Women _always_ think they know better. Every woman is suddenly an expert in interior decoration; even the ones who are contract killers. Jeeze… I really miss the good old days; everything before the 'Women's Rights Movement' and all that hoopla."

"Shooting you will be a pleasure," she sneered. She caught Sly's facial expression in the corner of her eye then said, "But killing _you_ will be fun… for us both, maybe. …Hmm, no, not for you; just for me." She offered him a smirk then returned her attention to the elderly man up ahead. "Hurry up, you geezer. The only reason I've not shot you yet is because I think I can pull through this. If you take too long and I bleed to death, I'll take you down with me. Now move!"

"Hush up," said Charlie. "I ain't no minute-man anymore so you better stop sassing me."

"Just hurry," she retorted.

Charlie made it to the staircase and ascended them slower than normal. He muttered under his breath just loud enough for Sly and the assassin to hear him. "I'll tell ya, these young girls need to learn respect in this day and age… One of these days, the wrong woman is gonna say the wrong thing t' me and… pow! Zam-boom; straight to the moon with'er!" He took half-steps across the flat panel, halfway up the stairs, then turned about and headed back up the second half, to the third floor hallway. "Well, we're more than half way now, kids. Don't make me turn this-here car around and take us right back home."

The woman draped an arm around Sly's shoulders but kept the weapon in her other paw trained on Charlie's back. Under her breath so that only Sly could hear, she said, "I'm going to lose my temper with that old bastard."

Sly simply sighed. His ear itched where the bullet clipped the tip and he was walking with one paw on her back and one, awkwardly, over her modest bosom. He turned his head to her and said, "Look, it'll be a lot easier if I just pick you up and carry you. I have to admit, I really don't feel right with a paw on your chest like this – I don't even know your name, for goodness sake."

"Do it; if you make any false moves, I'll plug him then you." She narrowed her gaze.

Sly said, "Keep going Charlie, we'll be right behind you; I'm just going to carry her, so go on – we'll catch up." He withdrew his paws from her body, ripped off his right sleeve then his left. He tied them together, end to end, then wrapped it around her torso and tied the other side. Once her wounds were somewhat covered, he put his arm behind her head, dipped his other beneath her knees and lifted her. "Out of curiosity, did you mean what you said back there… about being jealous of Carmelita and Karla?"

"Like the old man said – I was in shock." She hooked one paw around Sly's neck and extended her other to keep the weapon pointed at Charlie's back, further up the hallway. "…Yes, I meant it," she admitted in a quiet voice. "My name isn't important – just call me 'Eleven'. It's my identification number in the agency."

Sly tilted his head. "Is _everyone_ an agent these days? Whatever happened to being freelance?" Silence. He frowned then asked, "How did you know of Carmelita and Karla? I don't even _know_ you, so it's kinda strange that you know about _me_."

"I worked security detail for The Sire." Her flat tone suggested there was more to her story. But after a moment, she offered another piece of the puzzle and told him, "Sire's superior ordered your death."

"Sire had a boss? I thought he was the top guy?" asked Cooper. They reached the next staircase and he ascended them slowly so as not to catch up to Charlie too soon. He hoped the old man would get to the Living Room quickly while he kept her attention distracted. With any luck, he prayed the old man would have a plan.

She glanced up into Cooper's eyes and explained, "Everyone answers to someone in exchange for power, wealth, importance or whatever it is their superior can offer."

"What about a CEO?" asked Sly, trying to keep her mind off Charlie.

"He answers to the stockholders, Cooper. If he doesn't satisfy the clients of his business, he'll lose everything."

"I don't answer to anyone," he said with a little measure of triumph in his voice.

"Yes you do," she said. Her voice sounded a little weary, as though she was growing tired from blood loss. "You answer to Carmelita, you answer to your friends, you answer to the imaginary expectations you think your ancestors have of you… and, right now, you answer to _me_ because _I_ am the one with the gun."

"Fair enough," said Sly, feeling just a little humbled. "What happens if you break the chain of command? You only get paid if you kill me, right?"

"I'm paid salary," she said with a thin smirk. "I volunteered for this job because I wanted the opportunity to have control over you. I'm obsessively jealous, just like I'm obsessive over cleanliness and hygiene. If I don't succeed, someone else will. Sire employed people from all walks of life; government officials, political figures, you name it. He muscled his way to becoming the leader of Interpol in order to find Carmelita Fox. He knew if he found her, he'd find you. She destroyed Clockwerk's Hate Chip, so he wanted her dead. But, more importantly, he wanted _you_. His superior needs something your family owns… you _have_ to die – it's an executive decision."

"So I take it you have 'agents' in government intelligence agencies," he said, taking her down the top hallway. Up ahead, Charlie passed through the archway to his living room. Sly wanted to keep her distracted to give the old man time to plan.

"Several Intelligence communities were too thorough with their background checks. I couldn't get hired by a Czech agency because they found that I have ties to people who were being watched… Karla Chintzy was my training coordinator last year. She was being watched by the CIA and several other groups. That ruined my chances… The CIA _loves_ to spy on us. They constantly try to insert people into our ranks to keep us from succeeding with our primary mission… They know more about us than we'd like, but they can't do anything because we're not represented by any country or form of government. We're considered a religious cult because of the way in which we wish to change the world."

Sly kept his eyes on hers, to make sure he had her total attention now. "I've heard _all_ about it. That's why Clockwerk went rogue. It's self preservation; he doesn't want to give up his existence so you guys can use his new body."

"We _let_ him live – we _gave_ him a new body. He's greedy and wants the larger one back because Steven made it indestructible. He wants to be invincible and now he's angry. He feels betrayed – he left us and now seeks revenge. What a fool."

"Well, instead of killing me, you guys should be asking for my help."

Her nose wrinkled as if in disgust. "What for?"

"Hello – _think_ Miss Eleven," Sly chuckled, nearing the entrance to the living room area. "I'm the only guy to have defeated Clockwerk… not once but _twice_."

"He's in a body _we_ made," she retorted with a roll of her eyes. "We know its weaknesses and don't require your help."

Sly tilted his head, looking to milk her of information. "So that means your stalkers, the CIA, has some sort of knowledge about his weaknesses, too?"

"They stole a copy of the plans, yes," she began. She paused to cough several times then said, "But a Russian KGB agent infiltrated the CIA and stole them. The KGB felt that Russia should be the one to take down Clockwerk, if he makes trouble… He lives in their country, after all."

"I thought the KGB disbanded," said Cooper.

"More like… downsized," she said. She struggled to keep her eyes open at this point. "The only reason I'm holding this conversation is so I don't faint," she admitted. Her speech was beginning to slur. "I have Epinephrine in my medical bag; it's out in the car. I… I need that soon. Wh… why are we going to the top floor again?"

Sly knew she was struggling now which boosted his confidence and gave him more hope. "We're going to clean your wound and get you a shirt, remember?"

"…Right," she nodded almost drunkenly. Then, out of the blue, she told him, "I'm a virgin, too. I've always put my career first but when I saw your abilities, I was impressed. You're just a fantasy, though. You're not a guy I could marry because you'd be dead before an anniversary so…" She blinked twice, cleared her throat then craned her head to keep an eye on the old ocelot. She acted as though she'd just woken up from a daydream and became fully alert again. Just as Sly entered the living room, Charlie disappeared into the bedroom to get the girl a shirt. She glanced back at Cooper and asked, "What? I'm fading – I can't focus… and if I feel I'm starting to lose control of this situation, I _will_ start shooting."

Sly blinked. "I see you just got your second wind, Eleven."

The woman glared at Cooper. "How did you know my designation?"

Cooper realized that she mustn't have been paying full attention to the conversation. He eyed her suspiciously for a moment then said, "We were talking so that we could keep you from fainting, and you _told_ me to call you Eleven."

She wiggled her legs and bit and said, "Put me down. I can't think straight right now – tell the old man to hurry; I need supplies in my car, outside." She slid out of Cooper's arms and wobbled on the floor then pointed the gun in Cooper's face. "Okay, new change of plan. You go out and get it for me. You've got exactly two minutes to get back here or I'll fill that old man with more holes than…"

Sly held his paws up. "Say no more. Is it unlocked?"

She narrowed her gaze. "Look at my suit, you idiot. Do I look like I keep car keys on me? Besides, even if I did, I would hope that a _real_ master thief wouldn't care about keys."

Cooper groaned. He wanted to bring the palm of his paw to his face but since they were both covered with blood, he decided against it. "If I had the keyless remote, I could push the button and look for the car with the blinking lights. All right, lady, fine – you don't have your keys on you… which car is it?"

She glared at him. "The one parked by the main gate, right out front. Two minutes; if you're not back here, that old man is toast. It's a black vinyl bag in the front seat. I'll be timing you."

The raccoon broke into a sprint. He headed for the nearest window and disappeared through it. She watched him and waited until he was gone then she headed for the bedroom with the gun drawn. "Where are you, old man? Any shirt will do; it doesn't have to be something special. Hurry it up!"

"Hey!" shouted the old man from the other side of the doorway. "What did I tell you about that backtalk? I like a little spunk in my preference of women but not when she's got a flip mouth! I'm getting' yer shirt, so just hush!" He secretly frowned, hoping Sly would hurry. He didn't exactly have a plan at this point and hoped that Cooper had an idea about what to do next. He glanced around the bedroom, looking for any object that could be used to take her down but nothing came to him. He approached the dresser and sighed.

"What's going on?" she said, stepping into the doorway. She pointed the gun at the old man as if expecting an answer.

"In all the excitement, I forgot to take my pills, half an hour ago." He reached for a plastic case, which had all natural vitamins in each of the compartments used to separate dosage into each day of the week. He gave the plastic rectangular case a gentle shake so all the vitamins rattled inside of it. "See? I'm old; I need my pills," he lied.

"Could you get me a cup of water from the bathroom? It's the next room over."

She narrowed her eyes. "You keep cups in a bathroom?"

"Plastic Dixie cups," he replied. He wanted her to turn her back so he could go for the revolver he kept in his sock drawer. "Hurry, before Sly comes back. I don't exactly like people knowing I have to take all these pills – it makes me feel inadequate," he added. An expert liar, he could tell by the look in her eyes that she believed him. The problem was, she didn't leave. "Well?"

"You stupid old man," she said with a tired sigh. "I'm going to kill you both _anyhow_, remember? Do you really think I care if you take your pills one last time? Just hush and get me a shirt or I'll shoot you _now_."

"Who says I'm going to keep doing what you say? You've already told me I'm going to die _any_how."

"Because," she said with a smirk. "Part of you believes that you and Cooper will come out of this alive. So, you're going to keep doing what I say to stay alive as long as you possibly can. If you don't behave, I'll kill you now then it's too late. I can see the hope in your eyes. I own that hope; you do what I say or I'll pull the trigger this instant… that's how it works."

"Fine," he muttered. The old man opened the third drawer down and pulled out a plain white t-shirt. "Here, ya hussy. Get dressed; only a jezebel goes without wearin' undergarments."

"Shut your mouth, old man," she said. She approached him cautiously then snatched the t-shirt from his paw. "Your little friend had better hurry. He's only got a minute left."

* * *

**Without his cane**, Sly had less options. Using the short golden hook in his belt to ascend the bell tower, again, would take too long. He slipped back through the main gate with the medical bag in his right paw. The morning sun peeked up in the east, lifting from the horizon and gothic skyline. He approached the front door, left ajar by one of the other intruders. He broke into a hard run and took the first set of stairs. On the second floor, the first thing he noticed was the splattered blood in the corner. He didn't see the body of the Czech but didn't slow to search around, either. 

Cooper ran, full speed, to the next staircase and took each step two at a time. He barreled down the third hallway and up the next set of stone stairs. On the fourth floor, he shouted, "I'm back; don't go doing anything irrational, Eleven! I've got it, here!" He continued through the top floor and came to a skidding halt in the living room. He looked up and saw her in the bedroom doorway with a white t-shirt and the bottom of the tight bodysuit that still clung to her legs.

She approached him, snatched the medical bag, unzipped it then shoved it into Sly's arms. With her free paw, she rummaged through the pack and pulled out the Epinephrine. "Put the bag on the floor and prepare this syringe, Cooper." She handed him the small package. He did as he was told and opened the plastic wrapper with the aid of his teeth. He took the plastic cap off of the needle and handed it to her, plunger first. "Put your paw on my arm and squeeze." She put the gun against his forehead to ensure his cooperation.

Cooper complied; he took her left arm in both paws and squeezed tightly. She pushed the plunger into her skin, just beneath his paws and mashed her thumb down on the plastic end. The adrenaline rushed into her body; she jerked her arm away from his grasp then gritted her teeth. "Listen, I'm tired of playing games with you two. Stealth is part of my job but guess what? No one has my blood on file, so it's a risk I'll take. I'm done with you two… it's time to end this."

She snatched the collar of his sleeveless sweater, pulled him into a forced kiss then shoved him back against the backrest of the sofa. "Sorry it couldn't have been something a little more pleasurable before I kill you but it's gotta be this way for a reason."

Sly blinked again. His gaze shifted to the old man in the bedroom doorway. Charlie had a Colt Peacemaker in his right paw. Cooper carefully placed his palms against the sofa on either side of his hips. "Look, you're about to kill me; aren't you supposed to tell me who is behind all of this before you pull the trigger? Don't worry, it's not as cliche as everyone makes it out to be."

She saw the raccoon's eyes shift slightly. Eleven pivoted on her heel and pointed the weapon at Charles then pulled the trigger. The silenced weapon bucked in her palm with incredible force and the round struck Charlie's revolver. The weapon flew from his grip, leaving the old man to gape. She grinned then said, "I didn't intend to shoot your gun out of your paw but… so much the better." She saw the old man's eyes shift then spun back towards Sly, just as he was pulling out the cane-shaped revolver from his belt. She used the handle of the pistol to strike the thief in his snout.

"You two telegraph _everything_ with your eyes. That's it… both of you get on your knees and we'll do this execution style. Get down, NOW!" She pushed the silencer barrel against Sly's forehead. "Don't even think about moving anywhere but to that floor." She knelt slowly, picked up the short cane from the floor then stood back up. Not realizing it was really a gun, she said, "Another cane? This one looks shorter than the key to the vault." She followed Sly until he was kneeling then stood back up, keeping her gun on his forehead. She saw his eyes shift again, staring at something on her right. "How many times do I have to tell you, Cooper…?" She began to turn to the right and said, "Your eyes telegraph every move made in this room."

She glanced back at Charlie, who still stood in the doorway. His nose twitched beneath the plastic breathing tube; his silvery whiskers flickered.

From off to her left, opposite of where Sly chose to gaze, the Czechoslovakian wolfhound struck her in the back of her head with a shovel. "Telegraph _THIS!" _The American military spade, taken from one of the World War displays downstairs, sang like a tuning fork. It met the weasel's head with a resounding metal 'clang'. She dropped the gun and the cane then wavered slowly to the left. She reached her paws to her head, struggling to stay on her feet.

"Resilient little thing, aren't you?" he said, lifting the shovel again.

Sly held his paws out. "Wait, don't kill her," he said, picking up the revolver and the silenced pistol. He stood up slowly, keeping both guns trained on her. "She just had a shot of adrenaline… she's absolutely amped right now."

"Don't break that army banjo," called Charlie. "I'm serious; if you break the hinges on that folding spade, I'll break your fingers!"

The dazed woman buried her palm in Sly's chest. He tumbled backwards over the sofa's backrest, across the cushions and onto the coffee table. She whirled around and slapped the shovel out of the other man's paw then kicked him in his left kneecap. The canine collapsed to the ground with a groan but, before he could stand up, she brought her knee into his face.

She pivoted on her heel and faced the ocelot with fiery eyes. She took one full step toward him then collapsed on the floor. Face down and silent, the weasel lay sprawled out on the plush carpet; her heavy breathing signified her state of unconsciousness. Blood soaked through the makeshift bandage, turning the t-shirt red on her back.

Both Sly and the canine sat up, dazed and groaning from the intensity of her last attack. Cooper eased off the coffee table, knocking the remote control and paper letter to the floor. He replaced them the way he found them and peered over the sofa. "How'd you take her down?"

Charlie shrugged. "Delayed reaction to the shovel, maybe?"

The Czech wolfhound reached for his bruised knee then got to his feet and said, "Either that or," he trailed off, speaking in a thick Russian-sounding accent. "Perhaps adrenaline caused her heart to race… and she fainted from lack of blood." He reached a paw to his neck, still in pain from Charlie's neck jab, earlier.

"Listen guys," said Sly. He cleared his throat. "I'm in a hurry. I came here because of that cryptic message but, I only have so many hours left before Clockwerk's next attack. I've got to find his body and dismantle it before that thing comes looking for me."

The ocelot favored his right paw where Eleven shot the revolver from his grip. "Well get that book out and I'll show you what I was talking about earlier," said Charlie. He approached Cooper and glanced over at the other man. "And who are you? We thought you were here to attack Sly – you were pretty damn noisy, kid."

"I followed her." The canine nodded to the motionless woman on the floor. "I couldn't let her kill Mister Cooper. I… thought I was being quiet; strange that you heard me but had no idea she was here."

Charlie shrugged gingerly and nudged the woman with his toe. "That's because _she_ is a professional, young man." He pointed to the war shovel on the ground and said, "Pick that up, fold it at the hinge, and put it back where ya found it. Or I'll chop ya's right in the gizzard again."

The wolfhound nodded and picked up the metal shovel. He left the room without a further word. This left Charlie alone with Sly. The raccoon fished out the book, strapped down against his body, beneath his shirt. He opened up to the section on rail sliding, written in the handwriting of Tennessee Kid Cooper. "Here you go."

"Now, pay attention," said Charlie. He took the book and walked across the living room to another door on the far wall. He opened it and walked into the kitchen. He waved for Sly to follow then opened the freezer. He took several ice cubes, put them into a nearby plastic bag then pressed the cold Ziploc of cubes against the page. Ghostly gray letters appeared in a blank spot at the top of the page. "This little lesson will add a whole new dimension to that rail slide, kid. He called it the _rail gun_. If ya do it right, you can take off like a damn rocket as soon as you set foot on a track. Now, listen up…"

* * *

omg long author's note for my long hiatus

OHNOEZ

I made you ALL a fresh cookie for coming back to read my story... but... but I eated it! (sad face)

A/N: _I'm__ sorry it's taken so long! Anyhow, __I've__ had a lot happen in the last 30 days… I plan to keep going and write chapter 14 next. Thanks for reading!_

_By the way, __This__ wolfhound is one of the guys who worked for Donovan in Lament of Carmelita. __I've__ not yet decided on a name for him. __Also__, Eleven isn't going to be a main character… she's just going to be a segue into finding out who the bad guys are, finally. _

_:D_

_IF __you're__ still reading this story__Let's__ see a show of hands! PMs, email, feedback/reviews, anything you want. I just __wanna__ see if anyone is left after my long hiatus! _

**PS**:

_Fun_: Does anyone have a guess as to what kind of gun that Czech wolfhound brought to the fight? It wasn't a typical forty-five cal. It was the size of one, so it's not a twenty-two, either. I'll give you a very slight hint for anyone that's willing to wager a guess… it doesn't fire typical bullets. They don't know it yet, but the silencer barrel is an extension of the weapon itself… Also, Charlie hasn't checked his revolver yet but when he does, he'll note that there's a HOLE clean through the metal pistol, through his wall, all the way to the outside… Equally, the gun left a hole in the wall from where Eleven was shot. …More on that weapon later!

Now we've gotta find Sly's cane, Clockwerk's body and information on who is trying to kill Sly. Now would be a good time to seek out the help of those secret agent guys, huh?

_One last thing:_ I have a LOT of inconsistencies in this story. First of all, let me apologize for that. SECOND of all, I made a list of the big loopholes and plan to fix them. I spent this past week re-reading Spy Cooper. I know a lot of you like it, but let me just tell ya'… It's awful.

If you're the curious type, here is the list:

_The plot line is all over the place, the setting changes in every chapter and sometimes multiple times in a single chapter… It rushes around like a Spanish bull but __it's__ like I forgot to board off the running path and the bull went down a back alley and deviated from its running path. _

_Also__, it's plagued with dozens of loopholes and mistakes. Loopholes involving Clockwerk compared to my previous story, loopholes for characters (I call Saundra Moore, aka Cammie 'Chameleon', every name but the correct __one__… I call her "Sasha__"__ from chapter… like… 4 through 10 or something, then in chapter 12, I call her Sandra and Sandi, without the 'u'… it should be __saUndra__ a__nd AJ should be calling her CAMM__IE. What a brain fart._

_Also__, Sly got clipped by a bullet in chapter 8… but he doesn't act like it when Carmelita gets his shirt off in chapter 9, __nor in __chapter 11 in the empty volunteer rescue squad firehouse. Carmelita was with Agent Maris Johnson in Chapter 9, but randomly leaves him without me writing a scene for it in chapter 10! __Let's__ see, what else… Saundra Moore is MARRIED to an __E9 in the Navy, in chapter 2, but she's scrumping with AJ in chapter 12, during a stakeout, which is something Cleo admitted to doing when talking to Carmelita, __haha__. AJ is a hoe. _

_In chapter 6, I have a word redundancy issue concerning the details of Carmelita seeing Clockwerk… I use the word "chains" about 11 or 12 times in just a few short paragraphs… yikes. I write Carmelita's paw coloration in chapter 11 as "chocolate" when __she's__ digging herself out… She wears gloves and most vixens have black or dark-fur coloration paws and __eartips__ but… __I'm__ not sure Carmelita does, now that I think about it. __Plus__ there is a million spelling and punctuation errors throughout. _

_So__, I'm going to do something time consuming… __I'm__ going to FIX chapter 1 through 12 because I went through the printed version with a red pen and made a LOT of notations. I __don't__ know WHEN this will happen, but I'll get it together and make it as tight as possible… I prided myself on how__ I had very__ few loopholes in Lament of Carmelita… this story needs to be just as good! Right now, I __don't__ even know what's going ON with this plot… it's deviated completely from my original intentions of Sly being a government Spy. Now __it's__ back to saving the world__ from the same crap in Lament of Carmelita__lmao__. Is it __me or do__ my stories spiral violently out of control? __xD_

_THIS STORY IS OUT OF CONTROL! I got that way with Lament… over excited, over religious, over mythological… then I brought it back to earth… but only after time travel and everything else… _

_It's__ time to bring THIS story back to earth! __It's__ time I try and pay attention to this story instead of letting it get crazy. Everything AFTER chapter 9 is a complete deviation of my original intention… so… 9 chapters in the RIGHT direction, 3 in the WRONG direction… _

_I had NO IDEA what I was going to do with THIS chapter… I spent 3 days just… thinking of stuff. I also played a little Halo 3, __Bioshock__Zelda__: Twilight Princess, Call of Duty 3 and a LOT of __Castlevania__… both Symphony of the Night and Dawn of Sorrow in Julius Mode… but then… I was like, "Maybe we need to have some sort of event that really changes Cooper's life… I know! He should meet with someone who knew one of his ancestors! __McSweeny__ is in jail and Doc M. got his __arse__ handed to him… who is left… umm! So then I thought, HEY! Sly doesn't have a weapon… maybe I can embellish a little more into how he starts using a gun, like Carmelita… __who__ used a gun in the Cooper family line? __OH DUH, Tennessee Kid Cooper, of course._

_Tonight, I started from the part where Sly is standing in front of Charlie after reading the "TURN AROUND" note on the coffee table… According to Word2007, that is on page 6… __So__, I wrote about 17 pages in about 3 or 4 hours. I re-read it, made a few quick fixes… and now... __you're__ reading it! __YAY.__ Ahem.__I'm__ tired and you guys probably want to start reading right away so… __I'm__ going to post it now and if I find any mistakes, I'll __fix'em__ when I go through and fix ALL the chapters._

_So… _

_Love you __guys_

_-Kit_


	14. A Change in the Wind

A/N: _I decided to try and tie a lot of stuff together and answer a few questions in this chapter. All the explosions and action will happen NEXT chapter. Also, I've decided it's time to give the gang a NEW vehicle (method of transportation) in this chapter. Wait until you see what Carmelita spent Sly's money on... hehe. Maybe she IS high maintenance, after all!_

_-Kit_

Chapter -14-  
"A Change in the Wind"

* * *

**The vixen drew back a tuft of rusty fur**** below her elbow**. She nodded to the mark on her left forearm and said, "I got that from Clockwerk, when he attacked Panama Canal, almost two months ago." Then she reached her gloved paws to the top of her blouse, unbuttoned the top fastening and showed them a mark beneath her right shoulder. "That one came from Muggshot but was …_revisited_ while in the bank, here in Prague. Not to mention this one," she added. Carmelita brought her fingertips to her hip then froze. Her ears flickered and her eyes lifted. She gazed beyond Bentley, Penelope and Murray, quirking her brows at Sly Cooper. 

Sly offered the group a wave. "You four are _never_ going to believe who I ran into," he said then shut the front door behind himself. "And yes, I know it took longer than expected, but I've recruited some help. I told him to wait outside – he's one of those Shadow Cult guys; an apprentice to Donovan Loupe." He stopped, glanced at each of his friends then said, "What did I miss?"

Murray glanced over his shoulder. "We're showing off our best and coolest battle scars! It's freakin' cool! So what happened at that place?"

"Long story short," said Sly, "I met someone who is older than anyone I've ever known… who isn't a supernatural. He knew a family member, 'Silver' Cooper, and ran with him as a sidekick. And get this, he was _born_ in the eighteen hundreds. His home is a veritable museum. Anyhow, while I was there, I…" He paused with a frown and pushed his paws into his pants pocket. "I just realized that, by telling you guys, Carmelita is going to take this information very poorly."

She stood up and placed her paws on her hips. The fox's tail flitted behind her rump aggressively. "Spit… it… out, Cooper."

"There's a, uh…" He broke into a nervous chuckle. "Price on my head, y'see? And this assassin tried to cash in but he and the old guy helped me to stop this lady from killing me."

Carmelita tilted her head. Her soft blue bangs flopped down over her eyes. She lifted her chin somewhat then said, "Is that so?" The eerie calm in her voice, the calm before the storm, caused the entire gang to look back at her. She then licked her lips, flipped her paw up to brush away her headfur and cleared her throat. "Ahem." Inspector Fox stepped between Bentley and Penelope, approaching her fiancé. "Sly," she said and placed a paw on his shoulder.

"Yes, honey?"

Her paw slid towards his neck until her entire arm now rested around his shoulders. She guided him towards the backdoor of the safe house and into an alleyway. She shut the door behind herself then shouted, "Why the HELL is there a PRICE on your HEAD?" She froze and jerked her arm away from him. Carmelita brought both of her paws to his face and forced his head to the side. "What the… What happened to your ear? It looks like you got snagged on barbed wire!"

Sly gawked at her. "Please! I'm not _that_ clumsy! It's where I was clipped by a bullet."

Carmelita's eyes widened. In a sarcastic tone, she exclaimed, "Oh, no, a bullet is _much_ better than razor wire." She turned away from him and ran her paws up over her face with a sigh. "I take back everything I ever said about you being a housebroken man, two months ago. You're a sinking ship, Sly Cooper. What else did you learn?"

"My cane wasn't destroyed," he said, adding, "And the bad guys have it. They're going to use it as the key to the vault because they know the tenth artifact is there. Do you still have the first four artifacts hidden?"

"The Topaz block is in one safe deposit box at one bank. The golden coin is at another safe deposit box at another bank in another country. The scarab…"

"Locust," interrupted Cooper.

Carmelita turned back towards him and continued. "…_Locust_… is in a private vault, temporarily held by the Louvre, and Johanna's pearls are in a small safe at the Vatican.

"Why there? They couldn't even maintain possession of the spearhead. That thing wound up south of Cuba, halfway across the globe under the Vatican's watch."

Carmelita nodded. "…Once they found out the pearls belonged to Pope John the Eighth, they were only _too_ happy to take them. My only condition to them was that they made no mention. You and I are the only ones, aside from the Pope, some Archbishop and his aid, who know it's there."

"Fair enough," Sly replied. "But these guys have a huge head start on _all_ the other pieces. Not only that, they're about to obtain the one that was the most well hidden of them all. We should ditch Prague and head to Kaine Island and set up an ambush."

"I agree," said Carmelita, much to his surprise. She frowned then told him, "So stop worrying, Cooper. Anyhow, Bentley and I were talking about that Hate Chip. We started combining stories and realized _his_ chip may still be inside of that metal freak. He surmises that someone may have tampered with it to make the chip not work as planned. As much as the boys want to use those pearls and level Clockwerk and his entire volcano, I'd rather keep that as a last resort. Let's find Clockwerk's body before heading to Kaine Island. I want to sabotage his components then _give_ him his body. Let a computer virus take him down. Bentley is convinced that will work very well."

Sly leaned against a brick wall and frowned. His eyes dropped to the ground, almost glaring at the asphalt. A clump of dirty snow, all that remained from their last visit, lined the wall. He dug the toe of his foot into it with a sigh.

"What?"

His gaze lifted then dropped again. He rolled his shoulders forward, offering a subtle shrug. "If he disables Clockwerk that way, we might beat the dang thing… but then we have a huge metal body, empty and waiting for the bad guys to grab."

"Wouldn't he just destroy himself?"

"That's just it," he explained. "Yes _and_ no! He'd not be able to disintegrate, Carmelita. He's physically designed to last forever. He'd just… die - no more Artifical Intelligence; he's just memories on a hard drive and a lot of wires. Heck, we could even reprogram him to be our best friend - it's not my old nemesis, just a digital duplication with updated hardware. As soon as he shuts down, the body would be put into use by the bad guys. At this point, I would rather keep Clockwerk running around in circles because no one can obtain his body this way. But there's one little problem: They already _have_ obtained his body. If we give it back to him, we have to deal with him, but it keeps them from re-obtaining the framework again. After all, if he's such a super computer, able to learn things, I doubt he'd let himself be duped a second time."

She shook her head and placed her palm on his forearm. "Sly, they've already caught him in the past. He's some 'perfect Artificial Intelligence', and yet they captured him and stripped him out of his body and put him onto the hard drive of another. These guys handled Clockwerk like a child's toy. Whoever these people are, they're dangerous. Perhaps we should find this body and sabotage it further."

"Like how?"

The Inspector threw her paws outwards. "I say we just launch the damn thing into the sun. Whether it melts or not, no one is going to go and retrieve it."

"I can't exactly float the funds to a Space Administration until we get back into the vault with my cane," suggested the raccoon.

"Don't sound so damn dejected," she replied. "And what of this _Shadow Cult Apprentice_ guy? Do you even trust him?"

"He's the one who shot my ear," Sly said, adding, "in order to put a bullet through the assassin, behind me." He fidgeted for a moment then offered her a smile. "I'm serious, Carmelita. This lady was the real deal stealth assassin. I have no idea what's going on yet. All I know is that if we're going after Clockwerk's stupid body, they're going to get into the vault. If we go to Kaine Island, then Clockwerk might find his body first and we will miss the chance to sabotage it."

"Then it's settled," she replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "We split up. You and I will take off for the South Pacific. The other half of the team should remain here and destroy Clockwerk's body. Have your demolitions friend show up – the one that used to be a Chinese assassin and arsonist."

"…You mean _Panda King_." Sly nodded slowly then offered her a soft smile. "I'll contact him. But you and I will need some measure of backup. We should take a third person with us."

"Sly, who keeps them from getting killed?"

"Usually I do," he told her.

Carmelita nodded with a roll of her eyes. "If this Shadow Cult guy saved your life or whatnot, then have him stay here with the gang. If he risked life and limb for you, you'll feel safe knowing he's doing the same for your friends. Also, if people watching the Cooper Gang see that the group's presence is still in Prague, you'll have a better chance of surprising whoever took your cane when we get to Kaine Island. Whoever named that island didn't have much of an imagination, did they?"

Cooper shrugged with a chuckle. "We're thieves, not poets." He placed his paws into his pockets to keep them warm. "And I'm positively _sure_ you know Panda King's rap-sheet and name. After all, you were almost married to his nemesis – remember?"

She lifted her left paw at shoulder height and looked away. "Yeah; guilty as charged – I just hate knowing every little detail about your life, sometimes. If we're going to have a relationship, I have to pretend like everything is fresh and... you know, I don't want to be in the mentality of, '_gee, I'm dating a criminal - how sad am I_?' if you know what I mean. Like I said, sometimes I hate knowing every little detail about your life. That's a trait of stalkers and ex-wives. Look, we've got to catch whoever has your cane – an ambush is the way to do it. We've got to go and do a stakeout on that island."

He lifted his toe from the dirty snow pile then kicked the remains from his shoe. "What makes you think they're going there so soon? I mean, from what I understand, it was only _just_ flown in to Prague – it's here right now. Shouldn't we just try and find it while we're here?"

"Can't you just trust me for once?" she asked. The transition from concern to a rude tone reminded the raccoon that his fiancé hasn't changed in the many years he's known her. She spread her furry fingertips, displaying his ring then lowered her paw and told him, "Bentley said he made a backdoor emergency entrance so that you can access the vault before they arrive. I say we hide that silly artifact. That'll be five pieces in our possession, each hidden from the bad guys. We _know_ they've reacquired the Spearhead by re-stealing it from the CIA, the other day. The question is, do they have number six through nine? My seventh sense is telling me we should hurry. Personally, I'm leery of _one_ thing."

Sly tilted his head with a slight grin. He knew she had a powerful woman's intuition - her sixth sense. But he also knew she had a strong 'cop sense', her seventh perceptive ability. "Boy, Carmelita," Cooper mused. "You're really on top of things. I wasn't sure whether or not you knew that the Longinus spear was already stolen from the CIA… Anyhow, what is it that you're so leery about, hon?"

"This is going to sound a little odd," she began. Her eyes lowered to the ground and she turned to face the brick wall, behind the building. "I don't trust Bentley and Penelope."

"Pardon?" Cooper tilted his head.

"They rebuilt that vault," she said then drew in a deep breath. "And you've not visited it since they redesigned it. Those freaks working for Sire were somehow privileged to knowledge that _very_ few have access to. I mean, they knew about the ten artifacts, they knew you had the tenth and attacked the Cooper family for generations just to re-obtain it… but _why_ didn't they just abduct Bentley and Penelope? Why didn't they attack your friends _while_ they were rebuilding the vault? Why didn't they sneak in while you were fighting Moreau , after you opened the front door? Sire's gang had members capable of teleportation, for goodness sake. Chintzy claimed she couldn't attack things or take things unless she could physically see it, but then she teleports a small missile through a wall and hits Murray's van… he told me all about it and how upset he was that she gloated about it… but how did she instantly know she hit his van, while standing before them? Maybe she lied about her abilities – who can say? Either way, the bad guys claimed to go after you in order to obtain entry to that vault. They should have known that Bentley and Penelope were the real gatekeepers, as they seemed to have known everything else - such as the contents. Then again, Bentley has a time machine – does he know something about the future that he can't tell us yet? I just… I really have this gut feeling that those two know something that _we_ don't."

Sly wanted desperately to defend his friends. He opened his muzzle to argue but nothing came to mind. After a moment of silence, he asked, "You're sure they have a backdoor way in, without needing the cane?"

"I'm positive," Carmelita replied. "Bentley told me that it might be their only way back into the vault if the group needed emergency funding before we recover the cane. He said the _only_ two people who could access this backup entrance… are you and your father. That leaves me to believe it's something handed down to you from Conner Cooper."

Sly's muzzle contorted into a moue of disgust. "That's the second time, today, I've heard my father's first name." He withdrew his paws from his pockets and rubbed his cheeks. "Listen, if he and I are the only two who can get in, then that means Bentley's emergency access method involves laser sliding." He paused then cocked his head in her direction. "...Frankly, how in the heck did you get to the staging area when I was fighting that lunatic? You would have had to walk on a laser beam to get there and you didn't have a flying contraption like Doc Moreau . What's your secret – I mean, that technically means _you_ might be able to access the vault, too."

Carmelita offered a casual grin. "I went through the ventilation, out onto a catwalk outside of the staging room, and in through a window at the top. Believe me, if there was another way into the vault, that Doctor Moron would have found it after all of those years."

"That makes sense," he replied with a nod. "I mean, before dad came along and made a laser rail method of travel, the rest of the Coopers had to have _some_ way to get into the Inner Sanctum. Another thing, Carmelita... I don't think we should be distrusting towards Bentley or Penelope in any way, shape or form. Our bond of friendship is what got us through the ordeal with Doctor Moreau. I trusted those guys with the key to the front door – they would have betrayed me when they had the cane if that was their intent."

"But…"

"Carmelita, you're inability to trust is… y'know, it's not a good thing."

She nodded and glanced at her boots. "It's not one of my finer qualities, I agree…" She glanced back up and asked, "Do you ever have nightmares?"

Sly tilted his head. "I, uh… well, yeah sometimes. I had one a few days ago – I remember when I saw you thrown through the window of the bank… I thought you were dead. When I parasailed down to the alley… I saw you, motionless, on a crumpled recycling dumpster lid. Just a few feet away, on the ground, I saw Karla's head. It was like she was glaring up at me – that gave me the chills and it's an image I won't soon forget, either."

She nodded in silence and frowned again. "I once had a dream about Doctor M. Maybe it's because he's a mandrill, but in my dream, he looked like Burt Lancaster." She glanced up, trying to make light of their conversation with a thin smile. "I arrested him for splicing the genes of various creatures – a violation of natural wildlife acts imposed by the United Nations…"

"Was it a nightmare?" asked Sly, equally half-amused.

"It sure was," she muttered, adding, "_You_ got away scot-free in that dream. I woke up angry."

Cooper returned with a brilliant smile. "You're the cutest. Okay, we'll try your game plan. You're talking about giving my family rival over to my friends – Clockwerk and I have very personal business but… I'll do it your way."

"It's a different Clockwerk than the one you've put to sleep in the past," she said, reminding him of his own counter-argument from only a few minutes ago.

"No." Sly shook his head and folded his arms to keep warm. "I'm mad at that one, too. I swore to avenge my family by being the one to take out that 'Sire' guy. Clockwerk killed Sire and _robbed_ me of my right for vengeance. Go figure – Clockwerk started out as a thief rival when he was still a mortal man. Now I have a score to settle with him… or, rather… _it_."

"You'll get your chance," Carmelita promised him. "The guys are going after the frame made by that skunk guy, Steven… _Niall_ – whatever his name was. With Clockwerk in that little body, you still have a chance to fight him and actually make a difference. Have patience."

"I won't last very long unless I find a way to destroy that stupid laser-thing he has."

"Sly, have you seen the news footage of you attacking him after you jumped out of that airliner? Someone actually taped shaky, grainy footage on their camcorder from that flight… footage of _you_ fighting Clockwerk after you jumped – like an idiot, I might add."

Cooper's eyes widened. "Really? It was on the news?"

"Yes." She opened the back door and gestured for him to go inside. Once they were both back in the warm building, she continued speaking. "You made him nearly lose control – the media speculated that you somehow pulled wires from an access panel under his head. The military is undoubtedly analyzing that footage to find his weakness – your stupid stunt is all over the internet, too."

"Why didn't I know about this?" he asked. The two walked through the back of the small building and into the front room with the rest of the gang. "I clawed at anything I could. Wires, circuitry, you name it."

She lifted her right paw, using it to punctuate her words. "And my point is: you couldn't have done that to the other body. So long as he's in this current one, you'll defeat him. There is no way _he_ can fight whatever takes over his other, _larger_ body. He already _knows_ it's unstoppable and he's probably kicking himself for being duped, captured and electronically transferred."

"Uhm, he wouldn't be _kicking_ himself." Bentley cleared his throat, watching both return. "Neither body supports emotional feedback responses. The one built by Steven _could_ support a Hate Chip, but as we all know, that chip is just a co-processor and wasn't installed, or he'd be raving mad and would have killed Sly back in Paris yesterday. I want to find that body before he does, so I can rig it to destroy itself… then we'll hand it over to Clockwerk and let him do himself the honors."

"I hope it's that easy," said Sly. "Listen, guys… Carmelita and I have decided to go to Kaine Island. We need to grab that tenth artifact before my cane is used to open the vault. It's true, my cane is floating around Prague right now, but… we all know that the bad guys have been using this city to hide out. Carmelita thinks they'll head there next and use the cane to get in…"

"Yes," agreed the turtle with a firm nod. "That makes sense. Prague is their staging area but we all know they've been able to hit all the corners of the globe to possess each of these artifacts; they're a mobile and travel-ready group. I'll explain our backdoor entry so you can stake out the vault and wait on the inside, at the entrance, to ambush these thugs and get your cane back."

"Actually, I have a different idea," said Cooper. "I'll sneak into the vault, take the artifact, then have Carmelita hide it. I'll head outside and wait near the entrance… then take my cane back, _before_ they can use it to get inside. Then Carmelita and I will return and help you guys finish off Clockwerk. When the dust settles, we'll hide or destroy all of these artifacts. Whoever is left standing, I'll tackle them next."

Bentley adjusted his glasses, sneezed, then re-adjusted his glasses. "If we could re-capture Clockwerk, the way he was caught by whoever switched him out of his body, then I could reprogram him. He's a computer. All I would need to do is write a code of commands to make him docile. In the end, I could make him on our side."

Sly shook his head in disagreement. "And then someone else could program him back to their side. I'm not taking that chance. Let's just open him up, drive a nail through his hard drive, then melt him down into a really big shoehorn for Murray's sneakers."

"I'm down with that!" said Murray, adding, "We could melt him down then make a new van out of him!"

"It was a figure of speech, big guy. We still have to dismantle the frame made by Steven," Sly told them. "I understand that shell _can't_ literally be melted down. But even if we take him apart at the seams, someone could just reconstruct the parts. So," he turned to Bentley and placed his paws on his hips. "It'll be up to you… I want to take the jumble of metal panels, once we strip it down, and y'know what I want to do? I want to send those things straight into the sun." He cut his gaze to Carmelita and offered her a slight grin. "That's right, guys… I want to put those parts where no one else can get them. Then I'll be a lot happier. Anyways, Carmelita suggests that I should leave Donovan's trainee with you guys for protection. We're going to the vault and will return as soon as we hide that stupid diamond. I'm not sure if my cane will arrive there, but if Carmelita's hunch is right, I should have it when I come back."

"I sure hope so," said Bentley. "That guy has been standing outside in the cold for quite some time now. Let him in, so we can talk to him. I don't know if I trust him yet… I suppose I can if he helped you out. I'm just trying to be over-careful. Oh, and one more thing…"

"Yeah?" Sly walked over to a workbench and picked up a small rucksack with a change of clothes in it. He turned back to Carmelita and nodded, ready to go.

"Panda should be here, soon," replied the turtle. "He's leaving his daughter in China, though. He feels it's going to be far too dangerous for her to get involved. I don't blame him."

"Me either," said Cooper, adding, "You must be psychic, Bentley. Carmelita actually suggeted we call him and here he is, already on his way..." He cut his gaze to Penelope and Murray. "Keep Bentley out of trouble, you guys." He grinned then bowed. "Au revoir."

"Stay safe," said Penelope. "And if it makes you feel any better, we've been working on a way to locate Clockwerk's missing body based on the transmission signal used in the co-processor. Remember how it was smuggled in an experimental Interpol communication's server?" A smug grin tugged at the corner of her mousy maw. "We've determined it _is_ here in Prague, so far. We're just working on figuring out _where_, exactly."

"You guys are the best," said Sly. He turned to Carmelita and nodded for the front door. He opened it for her and she stepped through. He continued to hold it open and nodded for the Czech wolfhound to come inside. "Introduce yourself to the gang. I hope you've been practicing what Donovan was teaching, because they'll need all that shadow-bending magic to succeed. I'm heading out – I'll catch up with everyone in a few days. Keep my friends alive, all right?"

"I'll… do my best; why are you leaving, though?"

"Long story," said Sly. "They're trying to finish something your teacher started – he was interested in sabotaging Clockwerk before completion because he found out what the frame would be used for. The guys will explain everything. I'm in a hurry – sorry I can't stick around and stuff but, yeah…" He nodded at the vixen in the doorway. "You know what they say: Never keep a woman waiting. See ya'." He waved to his friends one last time then followed Carmelita outside.

The Shadow Cult apprentice shut the door behind himself and turned to the three thieves with an awkward frown. "Greetings – you all knew my mentor?"

"Yeah," said Murray. "He was a huge jerk at first, but in the end he turned out to be alright. I'd probably let him ride shotgun in my new van, if he was still around. Anyway, I'm Murray."

Bentley nodded. "Bentley – let's leave the formalities and surnames at the door."

"Penelope," said the mouse with the patchwork denim overalls. She pushed her round-rimmed glasses up from her button-like nose. "What's the deal behind the Shadow Cult? Was it a religion or something?"

"I'm Erik," he told them, trying to relax his Russian accent so they could understand him better. "I've studied the art of Shadow Manipulation with Mister Loupe for seven years. I'm thirty-one years old and I've taken an oath to protect the Onyx of Shade from falling into the hands of the wrong people – anyone at all, really. It's an artifact necessary to resurrect the fallen Arch-Angel of Biblical Fame. My people are gypsies and we've made it our duty to protect the world from these artifacts, so that the Morningstar cannot be reborn with flesh and blood."

Murray lifted a hand as if he were an elementary student. "Wait, wait, I have a question! Why is it bad if this bad guy is born? Then we could kick his butt and everything would be happy again, right?"

"First of all," said Erik with a frown, "If you thought telling Sire 'no' was difficult, then it would be _impossible_ to this person. They would speak with a silver tongue that no one could resist. It would be the pinnacle of temptation, telling you everything you wanted or needed to hear. He wouldn't force you to listen, like Sire; he would seduce you with words. He would manipulate your mind with a soft smile and … we're talking about the Devil. He is the master of temptation. Billions would follow him and praise him. He would solve all the world's problems, gain the trust of everyone, then lead them down any path he wishes. Imagine him in the body of Clockwerk, indestructible and high on a power trip."

Bentley folded his arms. "I thought Russians were mostly agnostic," said the turtle.

"I'm a gypsy," said Erik. "It gets deeper – there's one artifact out there, capable of stopping everything. It could reverse the revival process, even if all ten artifacts were used to a malevolent extent. This is the part that people struggle to believe, though."

"What is it?" Penelope walked to a coffee maker in the corner and held up two Dixie cups. "You want a cup of Joe?"

"Please," said Erik. "Are you three familiar with the story of Genesis?" he asked, reverting to the previous subject. "Most biblical scholars tell us that the forbidden fruit is a metaphor. They tell us that the 'serpent' seduced Eve into an act – the _carnal knowledge_ of intercourse for the sake of lust. The forbidden fruit was sex with someone forbidden. She invited her husband to partake of the forbidden fruit and, perhaps, the three of them engaged together. It's unclear and obscure because such a subject is inappropriate for children, most likely. At any rate, there really _was_ a tree with fruit. Euphemism aside, our bloodline teaches that this tree was a vessel for balance. Good and evil, for the lack of a better explanation, were placed into this tree, so that there would be balance in the world. The scales of good and evil were tipped sharply and evil was released from this tree. It's from this tree that we've received Original Sin, coded in our very DNA. It makes us who we are. We're all born with this Original Sin – the tree now resides in the realm of the Creator." He paused and looked over the other three to make sure they were following his explanation.

He took the offered cup of coffee from Penelope, thanked her, then continued his short story. "A piece of fruit from that tree survived the garden. A single seed, extracted from the fruit, was hidden by a family of gypsies – ones not related to my group. This seed could be used to grow a new tree, which could be used two ways…"

Penelope sat back down besides Bentley and said, "For good or for evil – just like everything else. But how does one use a tree for good or for evil? It's just a plant."

"For _good_, this tree could indefinitely delay the prophecies of the Revelations. Armageddon would simply never happen – the Sun would run out of hydrogen before the celestial war ever happens." Erik took a sip from the coffee then placed it on a windowsill to cool and cleared his throat. "If the lord of darkness is reborn, he would try to obtain the seed and grow the tree. If that happens, he would inject his sins, his imperfections, his weaknesses… _into_ the tree. After all, it was designed to be a vessel. He would be free of his frail mortality and be truly all powerful. Killing him in the physical world would become completely impossible. He would regain the very same might he possessed as an Arch-Angel, before the beginning of time. He would no longer need to use his tongue to dupe people into following him… he would simply crush any who defied him. Short of direct intervention from the return of the Messiah, he would rule the world. And he would turn billions of followers against the returning Savior making it a _very_ bloody version of Judgment Day. Trust me, it's better that we just keep everything hidden and everyone goes on living as they are now."

Bentley rubbed the side of his head. "None of this is based in science – we can't prove there were ever angels prior to the Big Bang."

Erik retrieved the cup of coffee and said, "Some say the Big Bang was caused by the initial war, when the Devil began an uprising against the Creator. God only knows…"

"Isn't _that_ the truth," replied Penelope. "This is some pretty wild stuff you're telling us. It sounds like something from a cheesy Science Fiction novel or some sort of crazy Fan Fiction based on some video game, mixed with a little religious, mythological and historical background. Dan Brown is probably writing getting sued for the rights to this whole story, as we speak."

"Amusing," said Erik. The wolfhound shook his head then took another sip from the coffee cup. "If it weren't all true, I would say that the author of this supposed story is a moron. However, I'm here as a bearer of bad news: Sire's people are working on this, _as we speak_. He was the outgoing one of that order. However, he wasn't that bright and had _no idea_ that Donovan Loupe was a member of the opposing group… And so, Donovan was able to infiltrate Sire's operation and …everything went sour. Only two other Shadow Masters still walk this earth. They're very private and will remain inactive. We'll most likely never see them unless Sire's cult goes after the Shade Onyx. They'll fight to the death to protect it, but aren't able to survive something as devastating as, say, a modern flame thrower. They've become integrated with dark matter, in order to achieve mastery of the shadow form… but that makes them twice as prone to death by fire or lightning."

Murray stood up, then sat down again. "So as long as they remain hidden and no one finds the hidden jewel stone…" He paused then exclaimed, "The bad guys can't use it to resurrect anyone! Right?"

"There's one problem," Erik announced in a flat voice. "This onyx stone has been located. It's in a vault beneath the Australian Outback. Shadow Masters take an oath not to attack innocent mortal bystanders. It's forbidden by the Angels and Arch-angels. Demons don't live by that code which is why they have an evil alignment."

Bentley snapped his fingers. "The miners!"

Murray looked up. "You mean the ones that we had to fight, when they took over Master Guru's home?"

"The very same," exclaimed Bentley. "Their employer most likely had ties to Sire's group. They must have been looking for the vault, beneath the rock. They're an innocent bystander group – contracted to simply do work with no idea what was going on."

"They wouldn't have gotten very far," said Erik. He took another sip of coffee then told them, "A shadow relic guards the area from neutrally-aligned beings. The Mask of _Dark_ Earth is a possessed facial mask. It turns the wearer into a mindless, aggressive zombie, fighting against invaders to the land. Any who try to dig down to the vault will be meet with strong resistance from the wearer. If that person is destroyed, the mask will simply possess a new host to ward off invaders. It uses a neutral-aligned person to fight other neutral persons… that way, neither Good nor Evil is technically intervening."

"Oh boy," said Bentley with an anxious sigh. "What… uhm, what happens if the mask is destroyed?"

"The vault will be unprotected against mortal beings." Erik took another sip from his coffee.

Bentley licked his lips and glanced about with nervous apprehension. "Remember that vixen who just left with Sly? Yeah, uh, she was the last person to wear it… We rescued her from it by removing it from her… and a group of mercenaries destroyed the mask with modern weapons… explosives and blowtorches, you name it."

Erik's eyes widened. A mortified expression came over his facial features. "And the mortal miners?"

Murray said, "Nothing to worry! We drove them out, so everything is awesome!"

"While that is a relief," Erik murmured. He placed the half-finished cup back on the windowsill. "I must admit that does concern me. What was the extent of their operation leading up to that point? Anyone could easily return to finish the job."

Bentley groaned. "They had trenches and canyons. Some of their digging pits were deeper than asteroid craters. That was one of the things that bothered me about their operation… they had a lack of typical mines. It was like they were just moving dirt and clearing land for depth – there was a striking lack of cave systems associated with typical mining. Not to say there weren't caves – they _did_ have cavernous tunneling systems… but most of their mining was deeply dug holes in the middle of the outback. I mean, they were nearly to the mantle, from the looks of things. We didn't know the Mask of Dark Earth was some sort of natural relic for the protection of the area."

Erik slumped to the floor in front of the window. He drew his knees to his chest and folded his arms. His frustrated expression made Bentley and Murray feel guilty. The Czech released a deep sigh. "What else would it be used for? It used mortal beings to drive out invaders with aggressive zeal. It always stayed in the vicinity of the outback that I'm aware of. Doesn't that make _sense_?" He paused for a moment then muttered under his breath. After a short period of quiet, he lifted his voice and told them, "It's obvious they've _known_ where the artifact is… now they'll use mortal beings to fetch it, knowing that Shadow Masters aren't allowed to kill neutral-aligned people. Whether or not the gypsies of the seed are able to keep their artifact hidden, only ten pieces are required to resurrect the lord of darkness. If he's placed inside of an immortal metal body, he won't _need_ the seed – it appears our enemies have already thought of this ahead of time. We have to work together to do what we can – the world is at stake."

"This is deeper than…" Bentley trailed off into a quick fit of sneezing. "Yeah, this is definitely bad." He sneezed again, followed by a sigh.

* * *

**Cleopatra slumped with a groan**. "What type of tracking system are you using? Can we use global satellite monitoring?" She turned to AJ with an expectant gaze. 

"It's a temporary and localized device – anything better would require a larger beacon, easily identifiable at a glance. Beyond four hundred miles, the signal will distort – we're almost to Prague, is it still airborne? If so, we're in trouble."

Her eyes flitted to the PDA then at the fox and back at the PDA's small screen. "It appears as though it's been transported from a major airport to a private airfield about forty miles from us." She licked her lips then asked, "How long will the battery last on your localized beacon?"

"We've field tested it for seventy-two hours with mixed results," he told her. "Let's be safe and say at least fifty hours."

"Fair enough." The squirrel nodded then leaned back in the cushy Denali seating. "We're going to have to catch a plane and follow this thing. Our only problem is, we'll need a plane, a pilot, and fuel. God only knows where they're going and I'm sure whoever has it is following a plan. And here _we_ are, flying by the seat of our metaphorical pants. I wonder if that stupid metal owl is the one transporting the cane."

"I'm not briefed on that situation but I'll make some calls and work with our contacts in the area." The red-furred vulpine agent gritted his molars together and said, "Saundra is my team's _go-to_ person and without her help, I have to go through the chain of command and hope they hurry. Keep your fingers crossed."

Cleo shook her head with disdain. "Forget about CIA channels. From here on out, we're going to use _my_ connections. From here on out, I'm team leader and you're the hired muscle all right? Now, give me a moment." She reached into a gear back on the floor between her ankles and pulled out a small plastic object. She then attached the object into the USB port on the side of the PDA. She toyed with the palm-sized computer for a moment then accessed a map from their global position. After a few minutes of silence, she cleared her throat. "Get off the highway at your next opportunity."

Jacob stole a sidelong glance then flipped on his turn signal. He merged into the far right lane then eased off the highway at the first exit ramp. He followed her gestures and came to a stop in the parking lot of a shopping center. At this early hour of the morning, it was empty. He put the SUV into park as per her request then pivoted in his seat to face her. "Now what?"

"I drive and you sleep until we arrive in the South Pacific," she replied in a firm, stoic tone.

"The South Pacific? What makes you think it's going to…?" He paused and furrowed his brows at her. He watched her with interest then asked, "Now what are you pulling out of your bag?"

"This," said Cleo. She retrieved a tranquilizer pistol and shot him in the arm.

Jacob White blinked and lowered his head. The round sported a fluffy green tag like the ones on the sleeping patrolmen not far from the Japanese aircraft carrier. "Wait a second… I recognize those from the guards on that Island, where the SEALS were killed." He eyed the feathery green end of the dart then slumped forward, suspended by the shoulder harness of his seatbelt.

"You're a beautiful, dumb man," she whispered. "But you have a sharp memory, my dear." She leaned forward and kissed his lips. She placed her left paw on the seatbelt buckle, her right paw on the dart in his arm then eased back. He slumped over the center console. Cleopatra deposited the sleeping dart into a cup holder then guided him out of the driver's seat. It took a few moments of struggling but she managed to drag him across the storage box located between the two front seats. She placed her paws against his muscular rump then gave a hard shove.

His upper body sank to the floor in the back seat while his legs flopped over the backrest in the middle row. She unbuckled herself then climbed into the back and laid him out in a comfortable position. "I'm going to need you at your best, later. So do us both a favor and stay asleep, Agent." She placed a thumb against his lips then tapped his nose with her finger. "If you don't behave, you won't be sleeping with either of the Moore twins, ever again." Her chiding voice gave way to a grin. "You man-whore." She made her way back up to the front seat and scooted over into the front left seat. Cleopatra buckled herself in, took the wheel and put the vehicle in gear. "Must we always _revisit_ the cliché archipelago setting?"

She reached over the center console, grabbed her knapsack and pulled it into the leather passenger seat. While maneuvering the Denali back onto the highway, Cleo used her right paw to remove several shining objects from her duffle. She peered over at the collection every few seconds between quick glances back at the road. The baroness took a headcount of her gathered prizes… A shimmering bock of Topaz, a large metallic coin, a golden locust, and the weathered head of an ancient spear, rested on the leather-wrapped chair. "An authentic _mint_ – who would have thought something worth so much money, could bring such a headache?"

Moore leaned back and brought both of her paws to either side of the steering wheel. She placed her thumbs on the radio controls on either side of the center-mounted airbag section then activated the satellite radio. She flipped through the channels until she found something she liked and eased the volume up by a notch. "If I see you on that island, I'm going to take that cane… even if it has to be over your dead body. I can't have machines attacking Paris over ten stupid trinkets. This has all gotten way out of hand." Cleo continued the soft, argumentative monologue with herself all the way to the private airfield.

* * *

_Twenty hours later_… 

**"I've never,"** replied Cooper. He turned from Carmelita and placed his paws on his hips. His eyes fell upon the sleek military jet. "Fourteen hundred nautical miles, huh? On _one_ tank of gas?" He placed a paw upon the fuselage of the modified F-35 _Lightning-II_ fighter jet. "And how did you manage to pay for this, again?"

Inspector Fox placed a paw on his shoulder. "You've never flown supersonic _ever_? Not even on a Concorde?" She then added, in reply to his question, "I _didn't_ pay for it – _you_ did. I used my badge to make them deliver the jet prior to the _check clearing_. I suggest you make a transfer of funds to the appropriate account while we're at the vault, Sly." The fox offered a devious grin at her mate.

"…How in the world did you get my bank to agree to that?" Sly turned from the fighter and rubbed his cheeks with his palms.

"You'd be surprised what my badge will accomplish. At any rate," she said, trailing off for a moment. "That is the reason I brought you to Japan." She closed her right paw around his shirt and tugged. "Are you kidding me? I can't afford this on my salary. And I can't afford to insure it, either. However, I'm licensed to fly equipment like this, so I've registered myself as your permanent pilot."

"Carmelita, how much did this cost?" Sly reached his palm behind his head, still somewhat confused by everything going on. "This thing has to be _millions_ of dollars – you seriously made a purchase in my name on something you think will be able to fight Clockwerk and get us to Kaine Island in a heartbeat? Why?"

"We don't have much time," she told him. "It was thirty-seven million Euros – nothing but sofa change for the world's unofficial wealthiest man. Bentley gave me access codes for the vault – he and I came up with the idea for this purchase. You've inherited a few trillion dollars, if you count coin _and_ liquidation of all physical assets. Now you're the proud owner of a modified F-35c , and for an additional six million Euros, Rolls Royce added in a replacement engine unit to be shipped to Bentley's lab in Paris, next week. All _you_ have to do is sign… _here_." She pulled a pamphlet from her pocket and smiled. "Consider it your pre-wedding wooing present to me. What can I say, I'm having a high-maintenance moment. Again, we're running out of time."

Sly took the pen and pamphlet from her, gawking at it in his palms. "Doesn't this sort of thing take at least a business week to procure?"

"Bentley and I placed the order from Lockheed Martin the morning before we flew from Prague to Panama, almost two months ago. The day you proposed, I signed to take delivery. Then, I had it shipped to Tokyo. I spent another four million Euros to have the modifications done. An enlarged fuel tank that exceeds the original fourteen hundred nautical miles, for starters. I had the cockpit removed, redesigned and now it's a two-seater. It's back-to-back – we wouldn't have fit any other way."

"…But why?" The dumbfounded raccoon rubbed his forehead. "I thought you said the check didn't clear yet – to get the funds when we arrive at the vault?"

Carmelita groaned and placed her paw on his muzzle. "Sly, I was being facetious, sweetheart. Bentley and I wrote it up about seven weeks ago. We wanted to have an ace-in-the-hole to fight Clockwerk. Then I went a few weeks without hearing from you. I figured, if you just disappeared from my life again, Bentley would receive it and I would simply miss the chance to _fly_ a supersonic jet. I took lessons, though, while you were missing in action, last month. I'm a certified supersonic jet pilot – I got my certification two days before you showed up in my apartment last week. It's been here, in Japan, waiting for us. The modifications are complete as of two days ago. I signed over permission for the team to test it – this jet has only six flight hours on it, so far. But first, you have to sign that pamphlet, Ringtail."

Sly glanced beneath the starboard wing and broke into soft laughter. "You bought a _jet_ to fight a metal owl and it can go… how fast?"

Carmelita face-faulted. "We're in a hurry, Cooper. Sign the dotted line." She sighed then said, "Mach two…" She trailed off into a soft mumble, adding, "and a half." The vixen suddenly felt guilty. With the help of his best friend, she spent fifty-four million American dollars to Lockheed, over four million Pounds Sterling to Rolls Royce's North American Engine Division and six hundred sixty-eight million yen to Japan. It was hardly a drop in the bucket for what was in the vault but the realization set in: she could have fed a small country for a year to buy and customized one supersonic jet fighter. Carmelita frowned. "Are you mad?"

"Have I ever been?" Sly turned to her and grinned. "You spent almost forty-eight million Euros on a war plane to fight Clockwerk – the least you could have done was get the gang's logo painted on the wings and tail."

She balled her fists up and glared at him. "You could feed a _country_ with the cost of this machine!" She ground her teeth together, almost seething. "All you care about is the aesthetics of this thing? Do you _really_ think I would spend extra money on paint, clear-coat and Teflon to keep it from melting off? Dammit, Cooper."

Sly cocked his head in spite of her sudden outburst. "Two hundred bucks from a detailing garage." He signed his name to the paper and handed it to her. "I hope you have a very Merry un-birthday, future Mrs. Cooper."

Carmelita shifted gears again and looked down. She snatched the paper and pen from him then nodded in an almost sullen way. "Sly, could you donate a few of those gold coins to some sort of charity? I just realized what that kind of money could buy…"

"And to think – Militant countries buy these planes by the hundreds, per order ticket. Not to mention weapons and everything else. Listen, I was wrong to suggest putting the Cooper gang logo on the plane, since you're going to be the pilot. We'll get a nice golden star emblazoned on the wings – sound good?"

"What're we going to do with this jet if and when we defeat Clockwerk? I mean, we ordered it before we realized the extent of his invincibility. We won't hardly have a need for it any longer. Maybe we should have just… borrowed one or something."

"He's not in the indestructible body right now," Sly reminded her. "And we'll auction it off for a Children's organization or donate it to the city of Paris as the privately owned craft, which single-handedly defeated the attacker of France. You can sign it in lipstick as its pilot."

She shook her head with a slight grin. "You're too much. Listen, we're going to break this thing in today by flying to Kaine Island. Are you sure this is all right? I didn't even ask before I spent all that money."

"Bentley owns a third of it, as far as I'm concerned – I made him the proprietor when I left to be with you, remember?"

She nodded in silence. She then lowered her head and said, "It was irresponsible and impulsive to spend that much, especially without talking to you about it."

Cooper placed a paw beneath her chin and lifted her head until their eyes met. "You spent a fraction of a fraction to try and protect the future of the Cooper bloodline from Clockwerk. As far as I'm concerned, I can think of no other woman I'd want to protect my children."

"That's sweet of you Sly, I mean…" She froze then glared at him. "Who in the heck says I'd have kids with _you_ anyhow?" She lifted her paws then added, "Sorry, that was a reflexive reaction. I keep forgetting I said _yes_ to your engagement proposal." She lifted her left paw, waving the ring at him then grinned. "Dios mio – if I actually go through with it and _marry_ you, I'll be…"

"What?"

Carmelita threw her paws into the air, but didn't release the paper or pen. She bluntly erupted, "Seré una perra rica. …_Zorra_."

Sly, half-way sure of what she just said, cocked his head. "You did _not_ just say that."

She pointed a finger in his face and said, "Listen to me, mister… if I want to call myself a _rich bitch_, I have every right. But if I ever heard those words muttered by anyone else, including you, I'll flatten ya'. And don't think I won't. Look, we're wasting time. We need to take this thing and fly to Kaine Island. It's a short flight over the Pacific Ocean with this thing. Let's not waste any more time, all right?"

Cooper motioned to the jet. "I suppose we should contact the owner of the airfield. We should get flight suits and get ready. Either way, I love you." His words took her by surprise, as was his plan.

She cocked a single brow then poked him in the nose with her finger. "You'd better." Then the vixen managed another grin. "Or else."

"I love when you talk dangerous to me," chided Sly with a wink. "All right, I'll follow you: Let's go and do whatever we have to do in order to get ready to fly this thing. I want that cane back before someone else goes and tromps through my family vault without wiping their feet."

"From here on out, just refer to it as the key to the vault, please? You know I'm not fond of that cane and what it stands for." She slugged him in the chest and asked, "Why couldn't you be the world's _legal_ wealthiest man? Anyhow, I'm not going to hold it against you because it's all inheritance, but that doesn't mean I won't hold it against your ancestors."

"Hey," said Cooper, following her back towards the technology offices adjacent to the airfield. "I don't hold it against all of _your_ ancestors for every single one of them being some sort of cop, now do I?"

"Not all of them were cops," retorted Inspector Fox. "I had a great-great Uncle who was a Fire Battalion Chief. See? My family knows and understands the value of individuality – proof positive that you could aspire to be something _other than_ a low-down sneaky criminal thief… if you really wanted." She glared over her shoulder at him, as if to suggest that he had little choice other than wanting to be something lawful.

"Maybe I could be a gymnastics teacher," said Sly as if pondering aloud.

"A _what_? What kind of job is that for someone with your abilities? It's _obvious_ your true calling is with Interpol."

"Aw geeze," he replied, shoving his paws into his front pockets. "My future wife is a recruiter."

"Future wife?" she snorted reflexively… She then added, "If you're _lucky_. But I'm willing to bet you'll mess it up, again. Either way, we'll see."

Cooper grinned, listening to her rant at him for a few minutes about the, "_only time will tell_" speech. He tuned her out for the time being. They arrived at the door leading inside the building but before she could open it and walk through, he placed his paws on her hips and pulled her away from the entrance. He stepped in front of her, opened the door by its handle and held it for her like a proper gentleman.

She attempted to scoff at him but it came out sounding like a fake sneeze. She breezed by him in the doorway, snuck a peek at him over her shoulder then continued down the hallway to turn in the signed paper and take delivery of the 'keys'.

* * *

A/N: _WHAT WAS I THINKING? Almost ten thousand words and NO ACTION in this chapter! Ahh! Honestly, I was just filling in all the holes. You're about to see plenty of action! Everyone is racing for Kaine Island at the same time. Doctor M's abandoned weapons are still covering every extra inch of the Island, which could come under use by just about anyone. _

_Half the gang is staying back in Prague to find Clockwerk's body and, as you may realize, their time limit has expired. I'm sure Clockwerk is now headed for Prague to see if they made good on his demand – we'll see, but I doubt it! _

_Who has Sly's Cane? Let's look at a list of possible suspects: It could be Saundra Moore, but why would she take it to Kaine Island? Then again, her twin sister – if they really aren't the same person, has somehow managed to steal an artifact from the CIA and three more from Carmelita's various bank safe deposit boxes! How did THAT happen? Who else could it be? It _could_ be Clockwerk… he might have gotten a hold of it and took it to Kaine Island, where he'll offer to return it in exchange for his rightful body… possible, even if it's not probable. But who else is left? Steven the skunk is still alive, but he's disappeared to restart a new life. Then you've got the mysterious person who was Sire's superior… but we don't even know who that person is or what their gender happens to be… Also, the guy who owned th__e Atlantis Dome is still alive… _

_And what's this? Carmelita had the audacity to label Bentley and Penelope as suspects, too? Wow… what a deep, harsh accusation, huh? And if someone other than Chief Barkley has it, what does that mean for him? Did he sell it to someone? Did they steal it from him? If so, is he okay or did they harm him? And what of that crazy female assassin, the weasel who broke into Charlie's place? How does _she_ tie into all of this? _

_HELL IF I KNOW! I've not thought that far into the story:D_

_-Kit_


	15. Return to Kaine Island

A/N: _Short chapter today. Why? Because I've written so much that I'm breaking it in half. This part is chapter 15, and the part I'm doing right now, which is mostly action oriented, is 16. Sorry it's taken so long – I have all this stuff going on at once, LOL. I'm fully renovating my place from an old basement to a studio apartment. Last weekend, I meant to write because I had off, but I went to Richmond, Virginia and hung out with 12 of my closest furry friends – we partied like rockstars, haha. _

_Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

_

Chapter -15-  
"Kaine"

**Bentley grinned at Penelope**. He clicked on the mouse buttons of his computer, drawing up a remote host connection with his home server then opened an archived video on the screen. "See? This is where _both_ of us went back in time on that day."

She leaned towards the monitor, watching as the grainy reptile and rodent boarded the platform. After a moment, they both faded from view. Her eyes cut over to Bentley's hand, watching him manipulate the pointing device with his fingers. "Goodness, you sure know how to handle the buttons on that mouse," she told him in an attempt at adult humor.

"Aww geeze," said Bentley, turning red in the cheeks. He rewound the video and replayed it again. He turned to her and said, "We flip and flop, back and forth, every few minutes without running into one another. And look," he nodded back at the screen. "This time it's just you." He watched her form on the screen and grinned. "She's cute, if you ask me."

Penelope grinned in return and cast a glance at the screen. She saw an image of her own body, which disappeared while on the metal stage. "You're right – that _is_ interesting. I don't remember that ever happening to me… at least not yet. At whatever point we're running on that looped strip of time, we must already have intimate knowledge, via time logs, to know when to arrive… I mean, we'd have to have that knowledge, so we don't accidentally collide on the stage with incoming doppelgangers." She paused to watch another replay of herself, alone, on the screen. "That's so weird – how quickly we flip and flop, skipping in and out as if it was rehearsed."

Bentley leaned back in his chair and said, "Flippity, floppity, flip. It's a mouse on the Mobius strip. The strip revolved; the mouse dissolved… in a chrono-dimensional skip."

Penelope replied with a nasal giggle. "You're the cutest."

He shook his head vehemently. "No, _you_ are the cutest."

Erik approached both of them from behind and folded his arms. "I beg your pardon, but _nerd-flirting_ won't help us find Clockwerk's body."

The tortoise glanced over his shoulder and frowned. "Who asked you, anyway?" He adjusted his glasses and eyed the wolfhound for a moment then, quite suddenly, sneezed. "We're looking for any hints or clues that our time-traveling future-visiting selves may have somehow left for us. We're hoping that we were smart enough to send ourselves a message… If we're lucky, they'll have left a clue where Clockwerk is hiding at _this_ moment in time. We're using the video and audio security logs to analyze this cross-section of a prism, where we… oh never mind." He frowned then turned back to Penelope, reengaging their conversation. "Anyhow, as I was saying… now there are _two_ versions of me. Both of which seem to be wearing warm clothes. They also both show up in a wheelchair in this particular segment. It makes me curious," he told her.

"When is your demolitions man showing up?" asked Erik.

"Soon," said Penelope. She turned back to the screen then pointed at the digitally enhanced image of Bentley and Carmelita. "Look at that! Is that where you guys leave to go back through time initially?"

Bentley paused, watching the screen for a moment, he turned back to his girlfriend and nodded. "That's _our_ Inspector Fox, all right. You might be right – that could very well be the intrinsic departing trip… that's where we kicked it off and started the paradox. The weird part is, those two actually die later… so that _we_ can live." He pauses, listening to the vixen grumble at the turtle, on the LCD screen. "You can tell by the sharp gekkering whenever she's angry. She was tired and pissy at that point, because both of them just saw their mate killed in Prague. I can't fathom his pain. The Bentley you see there was in a quiet, somber mood."

"It must have been _awful_," said Penelope. "I'd be so heartbroken if I just saw you die. You must have been on pins and needles, emotionally. Just comfortably numb from the pain. And, as a woman, I can fully understand what Carmelita must have been experiencing. Look, there she is, again, grumbling at you… ah, and there's the fade out." She took Bentley's hand into her paw.

"I hope this '_Mister King_' hurries," Erik said with a soft sigh. He turned away from the screen, nodded to Murray then walked across the room.

The hippo approached his friends and, in a somewhat softer voice, told them, "That guy gives me the creeps. He's, like, _way_ too serious. He doesn't take a joke all that good, and he's… Oh, I dunno."

"No," Penelope shook her head. "You're absolutely right, Murray. We're just tired and uptight, on top of it all… so we don't have the patience to deal with anyone with a short temper. However, I suspect that he will probably get along with Panda, because they're both very serious. I hope Sly is making out with Carmelita better than we're making out."

Bentley reached a hand to his bowtie and tugged the knot away from his throat. "You know, the way those two have been fighting, then getting back together… He probably _is_ making out with Carmelita."

"Aw geeze," said Murray. Meanwhile, Penelope brought her palm to her forehead.

* * *

**"It's a little cramped," said Cooper. **He shifted his weight then wiggled his shoulders against the backrest of the rear seat in the cockpit. "It's just… you spend millions on your own personal jet, shouldn't you get posh seats and a cup holder? How much further?" 

"Cooper!" Carmelita groaned then sighed in frustration. "Will you just shut up for a minute! We're only fifteen minutes from the island – can't you just relax? This was your biggest weakness as a Constable… You couldn't hold still and be patient for very long, especially on stakeouts. You need to figure out a way to curb your restlessness when you get bored."

"Oh, I never got bored on stakeouts. I remember calling them _'makeouts_'."

"Hush!" she hissed, blushing at the memories. She eased forward on the stick beneath her right palm and the fighter dropped beneath the clouds. The incredible azure valley held every tint of blue imaginable. The cerulean spread had but one imperfection: A green dot sat at the center, in the distance. The vixen cleared her throat and announced, "I've made visual confirmation of Kaine Island. So, what does this pendant look like?"

Sly paused to recall then smiled a bit. "It's a large diamond wedged between the metal ends of a golden horseshoe." He craned his neck to peer back over the headrest but his safety harness kept him in his seat. "Well, what are we waiting for? Hit the afterburners and let's get there!"

"So impatient," she muttered with a roll of her eyes. However, Carmelita honored his request and closed her thumb over the red button on the edge of the horizontal throttle control lever. Her body sank into the backrest; meanwhile, Sly could feel his seatbelt growing tighter across his torso.

The F-35's frame hummed from the intense speed. "We're surpassing Mach one-point-nine… two-point-zero," Carmelita told him. Her voice, muffled from the oxygen mask over her snout, continued the audio status report. "Two-point-two… Mach two-three. This should be the service ceiling for it's capabilities - wait, I stand corrected! These modifications were well worth the money. We're now at two-and-a-half Mach; I don't think it will go any faster, Ringtail. We're pushing its guts out and it's only a single-engine aircraft. We're about one minute from the island now – it's larger than I remember but we're flying lower than on my last visit." The digital display in her helmet reflected colorful information in her large amber eyes.

Sly smiled to himself then said, "I remember sitting with you in the helicopter when we left, last time." He paused for effect. "I took your paw into mine and asked why I remembered the vague connotations of romance being between us. As I recall, you said it was in development, but I still had some growing up to do before we could make it official. You said I had to prove to you that I respected you enough to turn the dream of romance into a reality. You're a clever girl."

A grin tugged at the corner of Carmelita's muzzle, where the oxygen mask stopped at the fastening strap. "And you said the sweetest thing to me… And now that I know what you _really_ meant, well… I suppose it's still a _little_ sweet."

Cooper felt the strain of the harness against his chest and struggled to speak over it. In a softer voice, he recalled, "_Inspector Fox, I'll strive to change. Maybe this amnesia is a start on the right track. I'm not sure what trouble I've caused before, but from here on out, I want you to trust and believe in me as not only your Constable but your friend. And if you'll be so kind as to trust me with your heart, I'd like the chance to hold that, too."_ Sly coughed at the end of his recollection then said, "I'm not sure if that was right on the money but I think it was close."

She sighed at the memory of his words. "It was verbatim. But that's just it… everything you said was a lie."

"No," he replied. "It was the truth. A little masked, but the truth just the same."

"It was _your_ version of the truth," she retorted. "Albeit masked in subterfuge, you did have good intentions on meaning those words… but then you turned them into a lie by leaving me. You asked me to trust you with my heart then you left because you wanted to find Clockwerk. But that's just it," she told him. "That's just it – you left _because_ of Clockwerk. First, you tell me you leave because you feared for my safety, but then you admit that you left to stop Clockwerk from being fully rebuilt. Therefore, if he _wasn't_ finished, I _wasn't_ in danger. So, you lied about that, too… Or, should I say, you _manipulated the truth_, Sly. You sure live up to your name – I can't stand that."

"Carmelita," Cooper grunted, still pinned in his seat. "Please understand… I put that first, over you, because if I didn't – I wouldn't have been putting your safety and our relationship first. What I mean to say is, I didn't want to leave but I did because I thought protecting our future was the responsible thing. Okay, you got me – I made a mistake in my judgment. But I'm here with you now and I want to rectify that situation. I'm lucky we ran into one another on the way to the café that day, six weeks ago." He paused, waiting several moments for her to reply. The raccoon strained, pressing his feet against the floor panel in an attempt to sit back against the force of gravity.

"In the end, what made you come back to me and propose? Clockwerk was fully constructed and came back… but you came to visit, anyhow."

Sly licked his lips, thought about her question for a moment, then said, "Panda King was talking to me over the radio, the day we were attacked in Panama. He said even if you and I went our own separate ways, I would have mourned you if you died. He said that you would have mourned me if Clockwerk killed me. He said we obviously are in love and we're both leading dangerous lives. Avoiding romance is time squandered and lost… and on top of all that, we stand a far better chance against him as a team then apart. He's a pretty smart guy for having made such a dumb mistake in his past. He really does regret ever working for Clockwerk's gang in his youth."

Carmelita remained quiet for a moment. She eased in on the controls a bit more, descending on the island. After a short silence, she said, "I guess even dumb criminals who make lousy mistakes can say something smart, once in a while."

"That kinda sums me up in a nutshell, right? A dumb criminal who made lousy mistakes, that can say or do something smart, once in a while."

She balked. "And what have _you_ done that's so smart, as of late?" She released the afterburner button then eased back on the throttle. The island's mountain centerpiece loomed ahead.

"Asked you to marry me," replied Sly in an honest and sincere voice. He cracked a secret smile, knowing that his answer was both clever and well timed. The raccoon mentally patted himself on the back.

Carmelita tried not to choke or stutter. She took a deep breath then, calmly, said, "The way I see it, you didn't have any other choice." She knew his words were smooth and she hated the fact that he was so good at saying the right thing just when she needed to hear it the most. "You were bound to wind up in my jail or my arms sooner or later. You had no choice but to come running back to me. You're just lucky I took you back."

"I am both lucky _and_ grateful," he exclaimed. "But it doesn't take a page about charm from Thaddeus Winslow the Third, written in 1839, for me to express how I _feel_. Now that I've had time to come to terms with the whole 'emotions' thing, expressing how I feel came natural. Not to sound all cliché or anything, but it comes from the heart. And, I'll have you know, I wasn't the kind of guy who talked about love and stuff. Heck, it took me nearly being killed to realize that you are _more_ than an obsession, a crush _or_ a pretty girl to me. Now I look back and say, _wow, I was stubborn_. I was enamored; now I'm in love."

"Sweet talker," she grumbled. Carmelita changed the subject to save face. "We're landing now… It's a bush plane runway – get ready for a bumpy landing." She eased the sleek jet down on the hardened granite slab. Dust and light debris clouded up behind the fighter. The pilot gritted her teeth and muttered, "This is something for a small Cessna, like a 172 model."

Sly, an aspiring hobbyist aviator, said, "Those planes only do about a hundred fifty miles an hour. …Tops. Please don't tell me you're staring down a short runway."

"We'll make it, Cooper!" barked the vixen. She grew silent and left him to wonder. However, the runway continued out into a flat portion that disappeared into the Pacific Ocean. Due to luck, the tide was out, leaving them an additional two hundred yards, normally submerged. The fighter came to a stop and Sly unfastened his seating harness. The sound of the power plant died out, replaced by the noise of ocean waves.

"That sounds awfully close," said Sly.

She grumbled then told him, "You have no idea. We're going to have to turn it around and roll it back to the other end of the runway. This could take an hour so don't go running off for the vault as soon as I open that cockpit, do you understand? We have to move it _now_ before the tide comes in and I'll need your help."

"Well how close are we?" he asked. Sly wiggled out from the harness then turned around in his seat. He peered over the headrest – his eyes widened. The Pacific beach lapped at the rubberized tires positioned beneath the cockpit. He reached for the canopy release lever but she relented and opened the glass cover for him. A hiss of air caused his ears to flicker then the raccoon climbed out. He stood up on the hull and peered outwards over the surrounding sea. "You stopped right where the surf begins… nice touch."

"Let's just get this thing turned around and then we'll taxi it up the runway. We have a lot of work to do, a lot of ground to cover and a lot of trouble to stop… in a very short amount of time. Let's focus, here."

"Right," said Sly in a relaxed voice. He leaned over the side of the cockpit and gazed at the foamy waves that lapped at the front wheel, below. "Damn that was close." He glanced back at his fiancé and offered a wry grin. "Perfect time of day, perfect distance – any landing we can walk away from must be a good one."

"You know, I'm _still_ mad at you for being dishonest back in that dome," replied Fox. "So, it really amazes me that you're saying something _other_ than, '_I'm so very sorry, Carmelita – You're wonderful, beautiful and amazing and I'm the luckiest man in the world to even have you acknowledge me without involving shackles_.' And to think, I might even forgive you at some point."

"I'm so very…"

Carmelita reached out and closed her paw around his muzzle. "Save it. You shouldn't have to be prompted to apologize. I want it sincere and at a time I don't demand it."

"Yes, ma'am." Cooper's words remained muffled, spoken through the corner of his lips due to her strong grip on his elongated maw.

The vixen cut a smirk at her lover. "You're learning."

The raccoon returned a sangfroid smile, despite the fingertips around his snout and jawbone. Still muffled by her paw, he added, "I _am_ lucky – I'm lucky to have a girl who already knows how I feel about her, so that when she tries to make a point, she is able to vocalize everything I've ever wanted to say. What else is there? She knows me better than I know myself and she's better at wording it than I am."

"Nice try. But I'm not here with a fishing pole, either."

He tilted his head in an innocent way. "I never accused you of wielding a pole or otherwise _fishing for compliments_, my arresting Inspector – the betrothed soul mate and clever vixen of my heart and dreams."

She released his face then said, "Cute." Suddenly, Carmelita changed gears. She went from amused by his last statement to an all-business disposition. She pointed down at the ground and told him, "There are tow-cables in a compartment in the belly. Grab every cable you can. We're going to turn this thing around, then we're going to roll it up to the opposite end of the runway, away from the tide. If we have to take off in a hurry, I want to know we have that option. Bentley and Penelope worked on this vault, so that means there aren't any remaining freakish animals wondering around the island… right?"

"I would _assume_ so," said Sly. "They're both nervous people, even for nerds. I don't see them being all that comfortable working on the vault if there were mutated beasts wondering around. I think we're safe."

She replied with a nod, trying to act professional and serious. She knew that their trip out here was supposed to be for business and so she wanted to reiterate that. "All right, in that case, let's get to work, _Constable_." She turned away, so he wouldn't see her grin.

They managed to hoist the front end around, slowly but surely, by securing the cables to a pulley system, with the help of an electric motor used for moving and steering the fighter. It took forty-five minutes to simply turn the front end back towards the far end of the runway. Once the jet faced the right direction, they powered up the engines and throttle-taxied to the far side then spent another half an hour turning it back around to face the length of the granite slab.

They secured the fighter then made their way up to the beachfront where Carmelita snatched his shirt then pointed at a strange marking in the wet sand. "What kind of creature makes a footprint like _that_?"

"Good question," said Cooper with a frown. "I've never seen anything like it. Look at the direction of the toes – it seems to have crawled out of the sea and is heading inland."

The vixen tilted her head and studied the prints. "Let's head in that direction so we can ascertain the survival of Doctor M.'s creations. I have a nasty feeling one of those things might have survived. You're absolutely sure Bentley and Penelope never came across one of those freaks while they rebuilt the vault?"

"I'm positive – they would have told me," replied Sly. "Neither one of us is a zoologist. It's possible that this footprint came from a normal creature."

"I've just got a bad feeling. Stay quiet and follow me," she told him, unbuttoning the holster of her shock pistol, just in case. She flipped off the safety with her thumb then cracked her knuckles and made her way up the beach to a dirt trail leading into the jungle.

* * *

**"What a mess**," said Carmelita. She stood at the center of a desolate courtyard. The skeletal remains of old wooden buildings surrounded them. Some were but splinters in a pile while others stood erect but, judging by the appearance of the wood, looked burned to the framework. She glanced over her shoulder at Sly then shrugged. "I didn't see this part of the island last time." 

"It was the home of the keeper," said the raccoon. "Aunt Maria Cooper, my father's sister, lived here. Rumor has it that Doctor M. attempted to court her when he arrived at the island. The thing is, she saw through his lies and learned of his intense hatred for her brother. Doctor Moreau threatened to kill all the animals on this island unless she told him where my father was living. No one ever saw her again – that same year, the Fiendish Five showed up in France and attacked my home."

"I don't believe in coincidences, Cooper," said Carmelita. She picked up a small broken plank from the dirt. "This one isn't burnt," she told him, then turned over the wooden piece. In faded scrawl, along the length of the short rectangular board, it read, '_Lady Vain_'. The vixen turned back to the raccoon with an expression of curiosity.

"Dad said she escaped on a lifeboat belonging to a wrecked ship, called the Lady Vain. But, that would mean my Aunt Maria survived. It's been almost two decades and no one has seen her alive. Dad once said she patched a hole in the port bow, took some food and a Mauser Karabiner 98kurz. She ransacked and burned the village and left to warn my father about Moreau's attack on Kaine. He never had the chance to return here and died before he could show up to stop Moreau but…"

"But what?" she asked.

"Doctor M. didn't know my father was killed by Clockwerk."

Carmelita furrowed her brows. "How do you figure? It sounds to me like they were in league all along."

Sly took the wooden piece from the vixen's paws and looked it over. "When I showed up on Kaine Island, Doctor Moreau _thought_ I was my father. Then, when he saw how young I looked, I realized I was his son and got cockier." He shrugged then said, "McSweeny _personally_ told me that he knew Doctor M. attacked the island because Maria Cooper visited him in jail then told him my father was dead. He also heard that M. was contracted to open the vault by someone else, who funded him with the money to build all that crazy stuff."

Cooper tossed the wooden plank on the ground then, in defense of Conner, said, "Dad actually planned to spring McSweeny from the pen to help him take back the island. But before he could get it all in motion, he was surprised and overwhelmed when Clockwerk's group showed up. Because the mandrill was on the Island, he thought he could lower his guard and play 'husband and father'. No one ever suspected the Fiendish Five to get involved; it seems rather sudden. I've often thought about getting McSweeny out."

Carmelita shifted on her heel and turned to face her mate. "You better _not_ have sprung him. You didn't… right? You better not have."

"When I visited him," Cooper began, "He told me about Doctor M. setting up shop on the Cooper island… Then he told me _not _to free him because he's due out for parole in a very short time. He said he'd rather get out and not have a record then to break out and have something fresh on his record. I think he's currently still in the pen, though… at least for a little longer."

"Interesting," she replied. "And you are still young enough to be impressionable so I must admit I'm glad he didn't _ask_ you to break him out of there."

"Dad's group was far more serious. Their friendship was like a business transaction. They worked out, rehearsed and pulled off things so well that half of their heists weren't even credited to them. Maybe more than half – that's why they weren't as infamous as me and my boys."

Carmelita nodded in agreement. "You live in the age of cellphone cameras, Sly. One shot of you in the Louvre and you're suddenly the hot topic on the internet."

Cooper ran his fingers through his short tousled hair. "You remembered that, huh?" He offered a goofy sort of chuckle. "Then you probably remember that the object we took was reported as stolen from a collector in Africa. Strange, it was donated back to the original owner – he found it in the first place and deserved to have it returned. Like I said, we don't target items for personal gain the way you think."

The vixen pivoted and headed back towards the main section of the island. She slammed her shoulder against his, storming passed him. "World's most expensive Bavarian Chocolate, sent from Vienna, Austria to Munich, Germany by train – you wanted it all for yourselves."

Cooper opened his stance so as not to be knocked off balance then followed her through the sandy courtyard. "Actually, I just did it because I wanted a reason to exercise chapter seventeen of the Thievius Raccoonus. It's funny – he was such a charming Casanova and yet, when he moved from England to America, his grandson, Thaddeus Winslow the _Fifth_ changed his name to 'Tennessee Kid' and refused to act like an aristocrat."

"Enough about the Cooper line," she snapped. "Stop reminding me that I might be marrying into generations of kleptomaniacs." She set her sights on a path leading in the direction of the centralized mountaintop, where the vault's main entrance waited. She walked in a brisk fashion down the path only to freeze then back peddle towards Cooper.

"What's wrong?"

She held her right paw up with the index extended. "Shh," she hissed then pointed to something in the foliage. The tip of her finger lined up with two gleaming eyes in the brush. She then whispered, "What the heck is _that_?"

* * *

A/N: _This chapter was taking too long and some people said my recent lengthy updates were 'too long to read on a monitor.' So I made this one short and sweet, so that I can get right into the doom and gloom from the get-go in the next chapter. I was going to write more in THIS chapter, but I rreeeaallyy want to start off with action right away in the new one. Don't worry, I'll deliver the action people expect from my stories in the next update, I promise. _

_So, tune in next time - same Sly time, same Sly Channel!_

_Up Next: _Chapter_ 16: "Patchwerk"_


	16. Patchwerk

A/N: _I'm updating from the breakroom at work today, so my editorial is probably going to suck but I didn't want you guys to keep waiting. Hugs!_ xD

Chapter -**16**-  
"Patchwerk"

**Carmelita drew her shock pistol from the holster**. She gritted her teeth, glaring down the sights above the barrel. The two eyes in the brush flickered but continued to stare back. She licked her lips with apprehension and whispered, "Those are the biggest eyes I've ever seen."

Sly moved into a fighting stance but looked slightly tense without his cane. A brief flashback played before his eyes, reminding him of Doctor M.'s creature a little more than a year ago. Carmelita waved her left paw out, placing her arm in front of the raccoon. She told him, "Don't get involved. Maybe, if we leave it alone, it will return the favor. If it is some sort of abomination, we don't want it to smell our adrenaline and get excited. Calm down." She kept her right paw forward, the gun trained on the eerie gaze.

Cooper cut his gaze to the vixen then looked back at the bushes. "I've just got a bad feeling about…" Without warning, the freakish animal lurched from its hiding place. Much like another one of Doctor M.'s experiments, the hybrid gryphon with the shell of a tortoise scrambled up the path towards them. It opened its gaping beaked maw, intent on devouring them both. Sly's ears flickered at the sound of a shock pistol discharge.

A massive blue bolt rushed forward, striking the creature between the eyes but didn't faze the beast. A shadow flitted by, distracting the creature. It skidded to a halt in mid-charge and glanced back. Then it lifted the towering wings that sprouted from its shoulder blades. The agitated beast roared with such ferocity both Sly and Carmelita toppled to the ground holding their ears.

The young female fox lifted her left paw, blocking out the glaring effect of early dusk. At nearly five in the afternoon the western sun made a blinding impression, leaving little more than a blotch in the sky above. "What the hell is it?" she demanded, adding, "Another creature, wanting to scrap with this thing over a meal?"

Sly narrowed his gaze, squinting at the sky. His jaw dropped. "No… I know that silhouette _anywhere_." He snatched her left paw and pulled. "Hurry!" The two of them broke into a sprint down the path. "Don't look back; just run," shouted the raccoon.

Carmelita couldn't help herself, however. She peered over her shoulder, catching a metallic glint in the late afternoon lighting. Clockwerk, half the size of the genetic mutation, swooped down and collided with the monster. The mechanical owl's metallic form sliced through the titan's neck, severing the head from its body. Clockwerk's momentum brought it into the dusty trail, spewing dirt and debris in every direction. The severed neck and head, easily the size of a tree branch, slammed into both the Inspector and her mate. It bowled them over in the blink of an eye.

Silence claimed the immediate area.

* * *

**Bentley wheeled over towards the door and opened it.** "Mister King, welcome to our humble safe house. Of course, you remember Penelope," he said, sweeping a little green hand towards the mouse who sat on a dingy loveseat. "And this is Erik," he added with a gesture towards the Czech wolfhound. "He trained under Donovan Loupe – I don't think you met the shadow master, but he was a rather loyal ally." 

Panda King stepped in through the doorway and shut it behind himself. He approached Erik and offered a paw. The two shook then King said, "Forgive me if I come off as rude – I endeavor to be concise and soft spoken whenever possible." He turned to Penelope and nodded respectfully. "Miss Penelope – it will be a pleasure to work with you again, madam."

"Splendid," replied the wolfhound with a firm nod. "The garish prattle of these lovesick youths are grating on my nerves. It will be refreshing to have a serious variable added to the equation."

Penelope simply giggled. "The four of us, together, could re-write a dictionary. All right, boys, let's sit down to the drawing board and start putting pieces together. We have a lot of work ahead of us."

"Getting down to business," said Panda, "Is a wise decision. Let us begin."

Bentley rolled his way past his current walker suit and over to a digital drawing board. He withdrew a stylus and waved it like a conductor's baton. "Ahem, before we begin, let me just reiterate the current plant so that Mister King is up to speed on everything." He twirled the small metallic wand between his fingers then explained, "Sly and Carmelita had a hunch – you see, Sly lost his cane in Paris while climbing through a collapsing building to save Carmelita. The cane came up stolen and surfaced here, in Prague. Their hunch is based on probability – a conjecture that Prague is simply a half-way point of some sort. They think someone is taking the cane to Kaine Island in an attempt to access the vault. They want to ambush whoever has the cane and take it back."

"Wait," Panda replied. "I was under the impression that the vault sank, as did a portion of the archipelago. Was it on a fault-line of some sort?"

Penelope approached the laptop on the left of the digital drawing table. She opened up an image file and displayed it on the table's glossy surface. "As you can see here, Bentley and I spent a lot of time on that island. There is no fault like we'd previously assumed. It collapsed because the weight of Doctor Moreau's defense grid, combined with the destruction of a centralized support column, caused the hub to sink. The core of the vault collapsed and the roof gave out, but only at the staging area at the middle – Moreau died in the cave-in, but Bentley and I simply rebuilt the vault from the inside out. Its two stories below ground, now. We built the interior to resist flooding and designed an awesome drainage system so we _know_ we can contain a flood situation."

Panda lifted a paw to Penelope then, in a soft voice, said, "Please continue, Bentley."

Bentley nodded and said, "They're waiting on the island. I mean, someone has the key so it is undoubtedly going to make its way there. In the mean time, we're supposed to secure Prague then hunt down Clockwerk. However, I built that processor. So, I've made another and ran a simulated Artificial Intelligence program on my computer with it. It should be able to outperform and even second-guess Clockwerk's current processor in his new, smaller body… what that means is pretty simple: We can second guess his next move because we have a processor that should be able to out-think him. My program's analysis claims that Clockwerk's next plan of action is to ascertain the status of Sly's cane then attempt to think like Sly and Carmelita. Most likely, that idiot will head to Kaine Island and force Sly to capitulate to his will. Clockwerk wants that other body back and I think he is going to try and head Sly off at the pass. I mean, he's a newly built and highly intelligent computer – he's done the math and I'm sure he knows Sly would be on that island. Theoretically, it's his next best move and he has to know that, so he's probably going to head there next."

"Fair enough," said King. "But I wish to know your plan of action."

Bentley grinned. Since Panda showed up, he was getting out everything he wanted to say without interruption by Erik. "We have a few things to do; one of which involves an explosive distraction. The other revolves around us finding Clockwerk's primary body before he, himself, can re-obtain it. Then, finally, we'll dismantle it or use it against him somehow. I'm not sure yet. But we can't allow anyone else to get a hold of it so… we have our work cut out for us. I want to figure out how to dispose of it and work from there."

King folded his arms across his chest. "And do you know of its location?"

Bentley shook his head. "Not yet, but it's here in this city. Clockwerk has already done the hard math for us. He's deduced it is hiding somewhere in Prague. The four of us are going to locate it and separate the pieces, best as possible."

King nodded with a wan smile. "Excellent – Let us try and stay focused on this task."

"Undoubtedly there is a great deal of security placed on this body – if we can locate a concentration of hired mercenaries…" Bentley shrugged.

Panda nodded and placed a paw to his chin. "Ah, yes. I see where you're going with this. If we can get a hold of local hired help and listen in on their communication channels… by means of problem solving logic, we should be able to narrow down where to begin looking in this city."

"Like I said," Bentley mused, "There is going to be a lot of hired guns. Without the stealth abilities of someone like Sly, we're going to have to defenestrate the rule book."

The Chinese assassin tilted his head. "Defenestrate… I'm afraid I am not familiar with that verbiage."

Bentley lifted his hands as if to punctuate another shrug. "Oh, y'know, '_to throw a person or object from a window_' – like the metaphorical 'rule book', or better yet – any political figure under the sun."

"Through _the window_?" asked Erik. "Not a porch or door, _just_ a window?"

Bentley nodded. "Just a window."

King lifted his paw from his chin to his forehead, rubbing the spot between his eyebrows. "I was not aware there was a word specifically for that very action. Or, at the very least, I was not aware that people ejected persons of interest or belongings through a window _often enough_ for there to be the need for just such a word."

Bentley grinned impishly in reply to Panda then said, "It's one of my favorite words, really. I used to joke that Sly performed self-defenestration all the time by jumping out the window in our safe-houses."

Penelope cupped her paws over her face, careful not to leave prints on the lenses of her glasses. "Aw geeze."

Bentley's communicator buzzed softly, causing the room to fall into silence. He approached the noisy goggles and snatched them up from the coffee table. The turtle quirked a brow at the LCD on the side, saying, "I don't recognize this frequency." He sneezed and placed the binoculars upon his forehead – suddenly his jaw dropped. "…It's a communiqué from _Clockwerk_."

* * *

**Something wet and cold touched Sly Cooper's hip.** It caused him to stir from his slumber but he hurt too much to move. His shoulders and back ached from a series of cuts and bruises. He lifted his left paw then dropped it upon something soft adjacent to his waist. His fingers sifted through a silky coating of fur. He traced his fingertips along the svelte slope of Carmelita's muzzle, between her eyes and up into the sinuous bangs of her hair. He realized her cold nose against his hip was what brought him back to consciousness. 

Sly's eyes shot wide open and he sat up in the dark. He squinted his gaze but couldn't see anything. He reached for Carmelita and drew her into his lap defensively. He cleared his throat then, in a demanding voice, said, "Give it a rest, Clockwerk – we've not forgotten about your other body."

"How perceptive, Sly Cooper." The monotone reply caused Cooper's tail to fluff up. "However, if I sought your death, you wouldn't be here – I've salvaged you and your mate as leverage to ensure the return of my body. I've notified your cohorts in Prague. They now recognize the severity weighing against my demands. They will undoubtedly double-time their efforts to find that body for me. I've assured them if they don't find it, you and the Inspector _will_ die. For now, I need you both alive."

"You need us alive? What the hell? _You_ need _us_? What makes you think we're going to do jack-diddly for _you_, creep?"

Clockwerk simply said, "The island is now unsecured. Resolve this issue."

"What? We're here alone – are you mental?" Sly rubbed his paws against his forehead then groaned and said, "You're retarded. I'm serious – there's no one here but us."

"You've been unconscious for three hours and seven minutes. In that time, the island has fallen under siege. They are under the impression that they're the first ones here – I've taken the liberty of hiding your fighter and the both of you. This gives you the greatest probability of success since your greatest asset is stealth. The sun is almost completely down, Sly Cooper. That, alone, increases your success rate substantially."

"Are you _helping_ me?" exclaimed Cooper.

The murky cavern illuminated under the dim incandescence of Clockwerk's blazing red eyes. "I seek the return of my body – the processor and hardware of _this_ body is inferior. I'm making less rational decisions and am unable to properly defend myself in this body. The computational processor isn't nearly as powerful – I'm ineffective by comparison. I deem the other body as '_necessary_' to my survival. For now, I have relocated you both to this cave and now require your aid for defense. The life of you and your mate is at stake. You have no alternative but to stop these invaders."

"Who the heck is here?" asked Sly.

"The militia representing Sire's leader is present. He created his soldiers as fodder-stock and trained them in New Atlantis. They are…"

Cooper lifted his paw to interrupt the machine and said, "Enough. I'm not combining forces with you; I'm simply taking your information and piecing together my own plan."

"It is necessary for you to obtain your cane – this will increase your probability for success against such numerous foes. Do you comprehend?"

"It's here? Now?" Sly perked. "All right, so where is it? And incidentally, how did you manage to _hide_ a fighter jet?"

"I relocated it to a flat strip of land on a nearby island, on the other side of this archipelago. I did this to maintain the element of surprise. I need my other body back in order to stop these men from completing their objective as I have no use for a ruined world run by idiots, like the person who used to employ 'Sire'."

Cooper cocked a brow at the glowing garnet eyes. "You're half-way making sense. I hate the fact we're on the same team, but you're just not… You're not the same Clockwerk."

The metal owl rotated his head at the neck. "After analyzing my past memories, recorded on hard disk drive, I've come to the conclusion that a great many of my actions were illogical. Only if I recover my other body do I stand the chance of defending myself. We will resume our rivalry once we've reached the conclusion of this current situation as you will undoubtedly wish to remove me from existence. I have a will to survive, and shall therefore defend myself from your future attacks. You will not be successful in my destruction."

"Shut up – where's my cane?"

"It's located at base camp Alpha, not far from the main entrance. They've not yet figured out how to deactivate the laser-grid defending the 'key hole'. They're a well stocked and intelligent militia. They _will_ shoot-to-kill if you are spotted. Do not play games with them. You will need to utilize total stealth and…"

Sly lifted a paw and said, "Shh! You're Artificial Intelligence, right? That means you know how to learn, yeah?"

"Correct."

"Then learn to hush – you talk more than Bentley." Sly cleared his throat then grinned. "As long as you live and as long as that body is in existence, someone will attempt to start a lot of trouble. Once this is finished, I'll have no choice but to shut you down and disassemble ya'." The raccoon grinned. "Nothing personal," then added, "Honestly."

"Once my other body is located, I'll automatically transfer myself to it. You will be unable to…"

Cooper stood up and walked to the other end of the cavern. "I'll be back with the cane – Carmelita and I will shut them down while they're sleeping, remove the artifact from the vault and hide it, then we're leaving this island. If she wakes up while I'm gone, expect her to rough you up. You'd better not hurt her or I'll rip you apart."

"Sly Cooper, you're at a disadvantage – I expected you to be uncooperative. In order to expedite our business transaction, I've given you an added incentive. I will provide you with the antidote serum for Carmelita Fox."

"Excuse me?" Sly stopped in the doorway and turned back towards the shining red eyes. "You poisoned her?"

"I've administered a temporarily dormant virus," replied the metallic owl.

Cooper's eyes widened. He closed his paws into fists and tightened his jaw. "That's…"

"Your cane awaits you." Clockwerk's eyes dimmed as if he simply went into a standby mode. Carmelita lay on the floor in silence. The simple susurration of her rhythmic breathing provided scant solace to Sly's newfound fear.

He did his best to keep his temper in check as he'd always done in the past. "That's weak. Is that the best you can do? You're making another cliché attempt on Carmelita's life?"

The metal bird's monotone retort sounded almost mocking in a way. "My intent is not to kill her. It's to ensure your compliance. Please continue on your mission by retrieving your cane – make haste."

Cooper hurried out of the cavern and rushed towards the entry to the half-collapsed vault.

* * *

**Carmelita sat up in the dark**. She reached out to feel for Sly then sniffed. The faint remains of his scent told her that she was now alone. She sniffed again. "Is someone here?" she asked. 

"Do not be alarmed," said an emotionless voice. Carmelita immediately recognized the speaker.

She gritted her teeth and closed her paws into fists. "Where is he?"

A soft 'whirring' sound came from Clockwerk, who re-rotated his head at the neck joint, coming out of a power-saving standby mode. "Retrieving his cane. I've told him everything he needs to know to get his heirloom back and hide the tenth artifact. However, I've not yet told him that he is the recipient of a dormant pathogen. It's a laboratory-created bio-warfare agent. This antigen is designed to cause his immune system to attack him as though _he_ was the virus. However, there is a cure. He'll only receive the retro-active cure if my other body is returned to me."

Carmelita gawked, turning to face the voice in the dark. "Wh- what do you mean by _retroactive cure_?"

"I've already administered the cure," replied the metallic bird. "But it won't be effective until _I_ want it to go active. This cure requires a special protean to become a complete antidote, but… once administered, it will work _instantly_, just as soon as the ingested protean gets into his bloodstream. However, for _you_, I've offered a dormant virus that will attack your pulmonary functions. Within a few hours of this virus going active, you'll die from asphyxiation – a slow but painful death. I will give Mister Cooper your cure, which works faster than the time in which it would take for a team of surgeons to complete the lobectomy necessary to save your life. The sooner you both return my body, the sooner you'll both…"

"What the hell!" she exclaimed. "Why are you doing this? You godforsaken freak! Haven't you done this enough times already? Be it poisonous gas or what-have-you, this never works! And, at any rate, how can Sly's stupid heirloom be the tenth artifact, when I've only ever heard of _nine_ of them?"

Clockwerk's eyes illuminated, providing enough incandescence that she could now see in the cavern. He tilted his head, as if in confusion. She watched his emotionless, yet expressive gesture then held her paws up and ticked off the list on her fingertips. "The Golden Locust, the Golden Coin and the Topaz Amulet were found in Panama, six weeks ago. That's three. Then, you've got the Spearhead of Longinus, stolen from the Vatican, Pearls of Johanna which Sly took from the Moscow Museum, Sire's Pendant of Will… that's _six_. Sly believes that there's something known as the Onyx Stone, which was guarded by the Mask of Dark Earth, in the Australian Outback – that makes _seven_. Then you've got the Seed from the Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, if it even exists… that's eight. Sly's Pendant of Fertility makes _nine_. What the hell are _you_ counting here? What's missing!" she shouted.

"Why, I thought that _you_ of all people would have figured out what the other piece was. It was the very first piece to go out into public only a few years ago. It was thought to have been lost forever – but someone recently did the most foolish thing _ever_… they returned it to its rightful owner… and now it's in the hands of those who wish to amass _all_ the pieces." The owl craned his head down and glared at her. "Perhaps you've forgotten already? After all… it is _your_ fault it fell into the hands of the enemy since _you_ were the one foolish enough to give it _back_ to the public."

Carmelita's jaw dropped and her eyes widened. She covered her gaping maw with both of her paws and backed away from Clockwerk. The vixen muttered, "You mean …the Fire-Stone of India."

"Indeed." Clockwerk's head rotated, much like a real owl. "I've sent Sly Cooper ahead of you because his stealth is necessary to retrieve the cane he will need." He paused to run another mathematical calculation then continued. "Leave now – by the time you've reached him, he'll need your assistance. However, time is shorter for Cooper than for you – make haste and retrieve my body or suffer the consequences." His eyes dimmed.

Inspector Fox turned towards the exit tunnel and broke into a sprint. She pitched forward from over-exerting her body, placed her palm on the ground and, in one fluid motion, pushed herself back up to keep from stumbling. The vixen dashed into the twilight illumination when her body struck something. She collapsed to the ground only fifty feet from the cavern entrance and tumbled onto her side.

"Watch where you're going!" grumbled another woman. The female weasel sat up, placed her left paw over the right side of her torso, and winced. She stood up with a sense of urgency then turned towards the path.

"Who the hell are you?" Carmelita drew her shock pistol and leveled it on the back of the woman's head. "This island is supposed to be abandoned and now, suddenly, there are people here. So that means one thing: You're bad news; not on my side." Just to make sure she had the other person's attention, she fired a warning shot a few inches above the woman's head.

The weasel skidded to a halt. "Don't be an idiot," said the other woman in a scolding voice. "The old ocelot said you'd be here – I'll be damned if he wasn't right on the money." She lifted her paws then glanced over her shoulder. "You're prettier in person than I thought you would be." Her eyes lowered to Carmelita's left paw and a moue of disgust crept over her muzzle. "But I respect you."

"What… in the world are you talking about?" Fox furrowed her brows and scrunched the end of her nose in confusion. "Thanks – I think." Carmelita approached the woman then sniffed gingerly. She cocked her head and frowned. "Wait a second – I recognize your scent… Your blood was on Sly's paws when he returned from that old man's place. He gave me the summation of what happened – are you the girl that tried to _kill_ him? He plugged your bullet hole with his fingers – your scent was all over his paws and I _never_ forget a scent."

The woman lifted her chin, glaring down the length of her muzzle at Carmelita. After a moment she lowered her head again then said, "I was doing a job but the orders have changed since yesterday. Look at the circles under your eyes, Inspector. You look jet-lagged because of the time change."

Fox scoffed. "Shut the hell up. You're slowing me down and I can't allow you to assassinate him so say goodnight, princess." Carmelita aimed her pistol at the woman's face.

"I told you, the orders have changed since yesterday – I'm here to keep those men from killing him. If he dies, my employer will be at a disadvantage."

"Shut up," Carmelita snarled.

"You don't understand," said the weasel. "He's been forced to acquiesce to Clockwerk's demands. He's been poisoned by some sort of virus and I have to rescue Sly Cooper or my employer will die. Everything has changed now. Instead of trying to assassinate him, I'm here to rescue him."

Carmelita perked. "Why isn't your employer here in person to help if his life is at stake in this?" She didn't want to give away too much information on her own status of health.

"Because," snapped the other woman. "Everything is complicated right now. My employer _does_ have the ability to help in person but they've always preferred to coach from the sidelines when possible. If anything, you're slowing _me_ down from helping him. I'm far more qualified to rescue him than _you_ are – you're just a glorified damsel in distress, Carmelita."

"Call me Inspector Fox," said the vixen. "I can see that you have weapons on your hips, ankles, arms and outer thighs. Knives and such?"

"I certainly _do_, Inspector Fox. You may call me _Eleven_." She narrowed her gaze at the shock pistol and gritted her teeth. "I don't have time to sit here and chitchat. If my employer knew I was dillydallying with you, they wouldn't be very happy. But I'm sparing you because you may be useful later by ensuring that Cooper lives. Lucky you."

Carmelita tightened her paw around the gun handle in frustration. "Lucky me." She approached the woman but kept the shock pistol trained on her head. Carmelita reached her left paw out and grabbed Eleven's shoulder but the woman jerked away.

"Don't touch me. Until I know for a fact you don't have fleas, I don't want you touching me."

A lopsided grin tugged at Carmelita's maw. "Are you kidding? A mysophobic assassin? How in the hell do I profile _that_ in a case file?"

The weasel brought her left palm out so that it collided with the barrel of the gun. She brought her right paw up, underneath, and struck the hilt of the handle then flipped it about. Eleven pointed the weapon in Carmelita's face then pulled the trigger but it didn't discharge. In frustration, she announced, "I'm _do not_ suffer from mysophobia – I don't wash my hands a hundred times. I just don't like dirty people and I can tell you've not washed your fur in at least twenty-four hours."

Carmelita thrust her paw out, connecting the flat of her palm with the other woman's collarbone. She then opened her arms to the stunned weasel, grasped the outside of her wrists and pushed inwards on both of her forearms. Then, with a strong grip, she pulled them apart, forcing the woman's stance apart. With ease, Carmelita overpowered her, disarmed her then flipped her around and slammed her against the nearest tree. "Assume the position, scumbag." She placed her shock pistol against the nape of the woman's neck and added, "This is a newly modified weapon – it won't fire for anyone who isn't wearing the activator ring. At this range, the discharge could very-well have been lethal. I could chalk this up to an attempted assassination of an International Law Officer. That's not a very good thing to go on your record, little missy."

"Oh, so now _I'm_ the scumbag?" muttered Eleven.

"Hey!" Carmelita lifted the weapon. "Sorry I can't stop to bathe when the world is nearly ending, while I'm stuck on a humid island in the south pacific. Don't worry, you'll be sweating soon enough. Just… take a nap, why don't you?" She brought the pistol down on the back of the woman's head. The weasel dropped to the ground, unconscious.

Inspector Fox withdrew a pair of handcuffs from her back pocket then cuffed the woman's wrists together, behind her back and left her slumped against the tree. Then, just to be spiteful, she picked up a fistful of dirt and covered the weasel's hair, face and neck with it. "Dirtball scumbag criminal." She grinned triumphantly then took off in a sprint towards the other end of the island.

* * *

A/N: _Sorry __it's__ taken so long as of late. As some of you know, __I've__ lost my job in September because being a Loan Officer isn't a fitting job when your country's housing market is suddenly CRAP. __So__, as of October, I started as a Department Manager at a retail store that sells office supplies and computers. Thanks to the holidays, __I've__ worked more hours with each consecutive week. Two weeks ago, I worked 52 hours. Last week, I worked 60 hours, and this week upcoming, __I'll__ be working 68 hours. __But__ after this week, it SHOULD go back to normal pay-roll hours – 40 a week. __It'll__ seem like a vacation by comparison. __I'll__ be writing more. I promise._

_I've__ gotten a lot of reviews for my other stories over the past few days. __I've__ gotten one for my __Castlevania__ story, a few for various StarFox stories, etc. __I'm__ glad people are reading all my work as I like to be known for more than one thing. _

_At any rate, __I've__ been tired lately. I come home to sore heels and ankles… Sunday (the 2__nd__), I worked 11 hours with no lunch break because it was too busy and I was the manager on duty. It sucks. __But__ whatever…__C'est la vie__I'll__ be glad to have the money soon enough. _

_Also__, Heidi (__Heiduska__) turned into a legal adult since my last update – Happy Birthday, __yo__. Everyone in this forum knows who she is: The girl who always has something nice to say to everyone (And __she's__ hot). Congratulations on reaching official adulthood, Heidi. __Yay_


	17. Key to the Vault

Chapter -**17**-  
"Retreiving the Cane"

* * *

**Bentley swallowed back his anxiety.** There were more armed men in the warehouse below than he could accurately count. He glanced over at Penelope and frowned with a sigh. "You're right, hon… they all look the same – like they're related or something. Talk about _Attack of the Clones_." 

"Or they all had very active parents. Boy there are more sons' of B's down there than I can count." She offered a wry grin in conjunction to her soft whisper. She shifted her weight on the catwalk then folded her arms.

The turtle placed his hands together, interlacing his fingers. He twiddled his thumbs and said, "The pollinating '_B'_ – he is a busy soul – who hath no time for birth control. And that is why, on days like these, there are _so_ many… sons of _B_'s." He offered his girlfriend a lame grin. Murray, who stood at the end of the line, made a buzzing noise to simulate a honeybee.

The mouse brought her left paw to her lips so as not to giggle at her beau. "What is up with you tonight? You're cuter than usual."

"Oh, me?" Bentley glanced down the line at Murray, Erik and Panda then the turtle shifted his gaze back to Penelope. He cut his eyes back to the warehouse, which stretched out before them, far below. "Little Jack Horner sat in the corner… extracting cube roots to infinity. An assignment for boys to eliminate noise… and produce a more peaceful vicinity." He began to twiddle his thumbs in reverse, pondering.

Murray looked up. To the best and quietest of his ability, he whispered, "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Panda leaned towards the hippo and said, "He's simply narrating the fact that he's brooding over the most mathematical way for us to remain quiet so that we're not detected."

Bentley nodded but didn't say anything further. After another moment, he lifted both of his hands and snapped his fingers with delight. "See-saw, Mary Daw has learned the law of the lever. It's "X" times _you_ and "Y" times _me_ – oh _gee_, I am amazingly clever." He turned to Penelope and pointed his right hand at a control box welded on the handrail of the next catwalk over. "You see that?"

The mouse squinted in the dim illumination. "We're above the lighting fixture, so it's awfully dark up here. Oh, wait," she added, craning her neck. "You mean that lever on the side of the box? What's it for?"

"If we can throw that switch," Bentley mused, rubbing his chin, "We should be able to activate the fire alarm test. Not only will it sound the fire alarm, that thing looks like it's the manual override for the sprinkler system. The water and noise should create some confusion and get them all outside. That will give us time to lock down the facility. With everyone outside, there will only be a few people left to guard Clockwerk's body. Give me a second to plot out an intercept slope, using the variable of _Y,_ which equals M multiplied by _X_ plus B and we'll use a concussion missile from Panda's missile launcher to hit that lever from here."

Murray leaned his head forward, over the rail, so he could see Bentley further down the line. "But won't that damage the control box and smash it all up and stuff?"

Penelope grinned at her boyfriend's plan. "Not if we remove the charge from the tip. It'll be like blowing a straw wrapper off of a straw, Murray. Except that the wrapper will be self powered and travel in a perfectly straight line." She turned back to Bentley and kissed the side of his face. "Yes, you _are_ amazingly clever, sweetheart." She pivoted away from the tortoise and faced the broad-shouldered black and white bear. "With your permission, of course, Mister King."

The large bear in the middle smiled inwardly. "Ah, Bentley, you're quite the man of words …and you are a bel-esprit." He narrowed his eyes, peering into the void at the dim outline of a control box, mounted to the handrail of the parallel catwalk. "I endeavor not to miss. How will you judge such a shot for accuracy?"

The turtle half-blushed at King's compliment. "I'll set up a grid-style visual in my binoc-u-com and help guide your aim by directing your posture and positioning until I'm sure it will be a perfect shot." He turned to Erik and added, "This is where you're going to shine… I need you to use your shadow magic abilities to create a barrier of darkness so that no one sees the booster exhaust on the missile. I also need you to enshroud the launcher, so that the flash will go unnoticed. Can you do that?"

Erik nodded and told them, "It will be like dimming a candle or a flashlight. It's the most basic ability, much like producing a shady optical illusion. I'm ready."

"And what about me?" asked Murray.

"I'll be honest: it's not all that exciting," replied Bentley, adding, "But it's crucial." He pivoted in his bionic walker and passed Penelope. He stepped behind Panda King and continued to speak to Murray. "You're on lookout detail, just in case this thing goes sour or if anyone comes up here. Just make sure no one comes out on this walk, okay? And if they do, don't throw them over the side because that would give away our position."

"Right!" Murray nodded emphatically.

Bentley cleared his throat and said, "All right, Mister King… Get down on one knee and aim the launcher over your shoulder. I'll use my laser pointer to put a green dot on the handle, then I'll position you into place. Give me a moment to do the math." He peered into his binoc-u-com and began talking to himself, gauging distance by a best-guess estimate. The tortoise lowered his communication goggles then took a moment to disassemble the a small missile on Panda King's ammunition belt. He deactivated the explosive tip then placed the short tube into the launcher.

King, doing as he was asked, got down onto one knee and shifted the launcher from his back, so that it sat on his right shoulder. "I'm ready for whenever you give the signal." He closed his right paw around the control box on his chest and waited for Bentley's order.

The turtle lifted his headset back to his eyes and used his free hand to operate a small laser pointer. A green dot shimmered on the red-painted lever handle, helping him to judge the distance by means of a guess.

"If you're as good as everyone says," said Erik, "You won't miss."

"Don't try to placate my ego," replied Bentley. He licked his lips then told King, "Fire."

* * *

**Sly's silent footfalls carried him to the outskirts** of base camp Alpha. Guards walked the parameter, carrying assault rifles on their shoulders. Cooper pressed his paws together and cracked his knuckles. He pursed his lips together then frowned. He watched the men and memorized their pattern then sprinted towards the ivy-covered barbed wire fence. The raccoon leapt into the air, narrowly clearing the razor wire above the fence post. He performed a loose somersault, landing on his feet in a hard run. 

Sly dove for a hole in the dirt, beneath the concrete staircase leading to the entrance of an old shack. He peered out to ensure he wasn't spotted when suddenly his communicator vibrated in his pocket. The startled thief reached for the binoculars and drew them to his face.

The face on the other line was that of a female squirrel. Sly felt relieved. "Agent Saundra Moore, right? Your timing is…"

"No time for pleasantries. Things have gotten complicated." She cleared her throat then said, "Jake and my sister have just arrived in Prague but your cane was moved. We used a tracking device to follow it but had to use a satellite when that thing found its way on a high-speed jet. Funny I should see you sprinting through the courtyard on our monitor. How did you know it would wind up on Kaine Island? Cleo and Jake won't even be on scene for another few hours."

"I'm not the best for nothing, although I have no idea how you could have possibly saw me. Can you help me with these guys?"

"I saw you run through the courtyard. You could have taken down the guards but you left them alone. That's pretty dangerous, Cooper." Saundra narrowed her gaze. "I can help you, but our bio says you're not a killer. Without your cane, I don't know how you'd go about rendering these men unconscious but if they get up, they'll kill you."

"What do I do?" He kept his voice low.

"You snap their neck and hide each body beneath the cabin, where you are right now."

Cooper frowned thoughtfully. "I'm a government spy, commissioned by the United States CIA. However, I'm not a trained secret agent. I don't know how to go about snapping necks with ease. That's not how I operate."

"Yeah, the 'boy scout' thief with inherited riches and the strangely honorable modus operandi," she retorted with a roll of her eyes. "Then we'll do plan B. Not that I had a plan A, but there's still a second option here. Climb through the crawlspace and peer up through the floorboards. Let me know if you can see your cane – it should be in the room at the far left end. Stand by for further orders."

Cooper rolled onto his stomach and crawled through the dirt to the room at the back corner of the wooden structure. He eased onto his back and peered up through the floor panels. His eyes widened, seeing the cane hanging from a coat rack in a badger's office. The animal had his back to the object.

"Dammit," Saundra muttered. "It appears your girlfriend is in the area. Hold on, I'm going to zoom in for verification…" She paused then smirked. "You went with the Princess Cut, hmm? Interesting choice – she's armed to the teeth it seems."

Sly blinked. "Wait, you can tell what kind of engagement ring she's wearing from your satellite footage? I've heard you can read license plates but what you're saying is a little extreme."

"Please, darling," crowed Agent Moore. "The United States Government has access to satellites over the west coast and mid Atlantic that can see if you're wearing your seatbelt at night on a dark road. I'm doing a frame-by-frame to see what kind of armament she has and couldn't help but notice her ring. I'm a woman after all. It looks to be only two karats."

"Two and a half," Sly corrected. "I didn't want to get her something so _big_ that it would get in the way but I didn't want her to have anything _too_ small, either. So she's in the area… but how do I get my cane? And, for the record, being 'rich' isn't _everything_."

The woman feigned a smirk. "Don't worry – I'm familiar with the Sword of Damocles. At any rate, the man by the window has his back towards your cane," said Saundra. "But the problem is, there are four men playing spades on their lunch break, on the corner near that window. You won't be able to come out from beneath the hut. Find a way inside through the floor – maybe a lose floorboard somewhere… Hmm, one of those goons is holding a pretty good hand."

"You can read their cards?" Sly began to inch his way back from the far corner of the building, occasionally checking the flooring for a loose section or a hatch.

"The ISO makes it a little grainy when they move, but one of those guys is holding a hell of a hand. Ah, he's cheating – he has a few cards stashed in his right sleeve. I can't believe these other morons didn't just see that."

Amused, Sly couldn't help but grin. He whispered, "I found a hatch but it has a metal hook; give me a second." He removed his left shoe and slid his fingers down into it. Cooper withdrew a thin telescoping lock pick then eased it up through the floorboards and pushed the hook from the eyelet. He replaced the lock pick in his shoe, put it back on his foot and pushed the hatch up. He climbed up into the kitchen and slowly crept towards the study at the far end of the building.

"Okay, rookie… I know you've dropped a few foes in your lifetime," she told the raccoon over the earpiece radio that linked to his binoculars. "But I'm going to need you to suck it up and take this guy down in the chair. He's a known felon with ties to terrorist networks. He's wanted in seven countries, dead or alive. I'm _not_ ordering you to _assassinate_ him – I'm telling you that _if_ you let him live, he _will_ kill you."

Sly placed a paw over the headset to hear it better then whispered, "Tell Carmelita to fall back until after I've gotten the cane."

"I can't," replied Saundra. "I need her to create a diversion for this to work. You don't exactly realize just how big all of this has gotten but something top secret has fallen into the hands of these slobs. We can't allow them to have control over this weapon."

"So you're ordering me to 'dispatch' the target, is that it?"

"There is a satellite known as the Zenith Cannon. These men have complete control of it – something people think is an unfinished dream from the Star Wars project in the midst of the Reagan administration. It, uh… was designed to shoot down asteroids that might threaten Earth. Let's just say, with that satellite, even Clockwerk couldn't survive a blast from that thing. They've taken possession of it so that we can't use it against his other form. It was our last defense measure. If that body is used as a weapon to threaten National Security, we'll need the Zenith Cannon back under our control."

Sly listened to her monologue. Meanwhile, he made his way into the study, took his cane from the coat rack then used the hook to remove a gun from the badger's belt holster. He brought it to his left paw and fired out the window at the card players.

The startled badger jumped to his feet. Outside, the guards on lunch duty stood up and opened fire on the window, seeing Sly in the office. Cooper used his cane to snatch the badger by his bicep then pull him from the chair. The clever thief used the high-ranking terrorist as a body shield and made his way to the door. He heard Saundra's voice in his earpiece.

"Very effective," she told him. "But now things are getting interesting. Clockwerk has just left that cavern he holed up in, earlier. Also, you've now alerted a total of seven guards outside. Think you can handle them all? Let me know; Carmelita is getting very close and I might be able to contact her for support."

"If anything, I want you to tell her to wait for my signal then find me. She's in trouble – Clockwerk poisoned her and he'll only give us the cure if we retrieve his other body. Giving _him_ possession of it is _far_ better than the alternative."

"I'm half-inclined to agree with that last bit," she said with a sigh. "But who is to say that all this hocus pocus is even real? There's a good chance that keeping the body dormant is the best idea, simply because there's probably no such thing as 'the devil'."

Sly dropped the slain body to the floor and executed a magnificent cartwheel, using his feet to kick through a sliding-glass door. He broke into a full sprint and continued his conversation between calm breaths. "You know more than I realized. So, as far as you're concerned, these people are just operating on the paycheck of an obsessed cult, huh?"

Sandra's voice continued in his earpiece. "Pretty much. Get ready, you're heading towards Carmelita now – you're about to see her as soon as you clear that sandbag wall at the edge of the parameter."

Cooper used his cane to vault over the makeshift wall. He saw Carmelita up ahead and waved his arms at her. "Get back! There are seven angry people with big guns! Head for those trees!" He caught up with her just as she pivoted on her heel. The two ran together, heading for the jungle.

They took refuge in the back of an overgrown rusted-out box truck. Once used to carry supplies to the front line of Doctor M's fortress, it now sat in disuse, surrounded by thick jungle brush. The path it once traveled now sat silent of traffic, overrun with plant life. They huddled together in the dark container, among boxes of expired canned food.

Sly picked up a tin can of green beans then shrugged. "At least, between the preservatives and metal container, it doesn't smell like rotten food in here."

"Wonders never ceased," muttered Carmelita. "Listen, Ringtail. We've got to find Clockwerk's body. It's our only chance."

"Yeah, he told me what he did to you…" Sly placed the can on the floor by his foot and leaned back on a crate. "He won't get away with it. I've saved you before – remember the gas chamber?"

"It's not _just_ me," she said in a quiet voice. "You've got something, too. It's different than whatever he gave to me. Now that we've got your cane back, we have to return to Prague. Where did those men come from, anyhow?"

Sly folded his arms. "We were out for a few hours. They invaded the island and, of all people, Clockwerk rescued us and hid our plane on the next island over. How _thoughtful_, huh? He must _really_ want his body back."

She folded her arms the same way and shifted her weight on a stack of cans then said, "He really has faith in your abilities. For his mind to calculate 'Sly Cooper' as his best hope, you must be better than I realized."

"What part of _The Best_ is so hard to understand?"

Carmelita stood up and put her paws on her hips. "Must you have such an outrageous ego when it comes to your abilities? Seriously, Sly, you should be more humble."

The raccoon shook his head and stood as well. He placed his paws on either side of her face and gazed into her eyes, barely able to see them in the dark truck trailer. "I have to be, Carmelita. I have to be the best right now and convince myself I'm unable to lose, because I have to go and fix this situation before you get hurt… or worse."

"No, Sly." She lowered her gaze, able to make out his frame with her sharp night-capable vulpine eyes. "If anyone has to take the lead, it should be me. As a cop, I serve and protect. I may be plagued by some sort of laboratory strain but I need you to stay out of my way and let me solve this."

"It's not one of your cases – there is nothing to 'solve', Carmelita. Why can't you just trust me?"

She lifted her paws and brushed his from her face. "If I don't do what I do best as quickly as possible, we both die, Sly Cooper. I'm the Inspector and _you_ are the Constable. You need to listen to me and step back so I can save our lives. I _do_ trust you with my life, but I need _you_ to trust _me_ with _both_ our lives, okay?"

"Carmelita, we're up against an army of men. They'll kill you." Sly sighed and ran his paws through his headfur. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his favorite blue cap then pulled it down over his head. He picked up his cane then said, "I can't let them gun you down."

The vixen tightened her jaw, but shivered from fever. "I am a titan; a monolith – nothing can stop me."

Sly looked and sounded annoyed with her. "I can see it."

"What the hell choice do I have?" she argued, turning her back to him.

"A very clear one," he replied in a soft voice. "…To watch me die or make me watch you do the same."

She sighed in frustration, clinching her teeth together so as not to chatter from the feverish cold, which set in at a rapid pace. She folded her arms once more. She didn't want him getting killed now that he was beginning to show real promise. She feared for their relationship and for his life.

Sly placed a paw on her shoulder. "Why won't you let anybody in?"

She glanced over her shoulder at him. His form was a dim silhouette, surrounded by the last vestiges of sunset, cast in at the far end of the trailer. She sighed again and frowned. "Because these moments, as beautiful as they are, are evil when they're gone." She lifted her left paw, turned and held it out to him.

The semi-retired thief took her by the forearm and leaned in close to examine the wound on her palm. He furrowed his brows and asked, "What happened to you?"

"I'll be fine," she replied. "I didn't realize that Doctor M. would have so much barbed wire on an island he thought to be secure. I cut myself trying to find you." She withdrew her wrist from his grip and walked to the edge of the trailer then withdrew a small tube from her pocket. She pulled a gun from her other pocket and attached the silencer to the end then pointed it into the bushes and fired it rapidly.

"What're you doing?" Sly approached her from behind.

"Hush," she replied. Once the energy weapon clicked in defiance, she brought the hot barrel to her palm and pressed it against the padded flesh. She hissed through her teeth in harmony to the sizzle of her burning palm. The hot metal barrel sounded like meat cooking on a grill. Sly quickly placed his paw on her shoulder but she shrugged him away, keeping the barrel firmly pressed to her left palm.

"What are you doing?" Cooper exclaimed in a hushed tone.

"Cauterizing my damn wound," she snapped back in an equally frustrated whisper. "Shut up for one damn minute." She grew quiet for a moment then drew in a long, deep breath and sighed. The sizzling sound concluded as the gun barrel cooled from heat transference. She swallowed back her soft tears of pain then removed the silencer and replaced it in her pocket. She replaced the high power shock weapon into its holster next to the favored red shock pistol with the yellow star. "You need to trust me, Cooper. Now, our next move is to get into that damn vault, make sure the artifact is still in there, then hide it far away from this island. After that, we go back to Prague and find that damn body. I don't know how long we have, but I suggest we don't sit around on our tails all night. You're the only one who knows how to get into that vault, so you take point. But once we got that stupid thing, I want you to hide out until this whole thing blows over."

"That's not going to happen, Carmelita." Sly hooked his cane around her waist, pulled her close to him then said, "If anything, we're a team. There is an 'us' and to survive, we've got to rely on one another. Now, let's go get into that vault."

Carmelita sighed again. She was in too much pain to be charmed by his closeness but it comforted her in some measure and so she didn't pull away. "Okay, for now we're a team," she muttered. "And if we work together, we should be able to fight through all of this." She reached up to the side of his head and plucked the earpiece from his ear. She brought the transceiver close to her lips and, directing her sharp tone to the US Government Agent on the other end, said, "And I want you to listen close, you stupid little spy bitch… If you double-cross Sly, his team or _me_, I will personally come to Washington DC, find you, and rip your leg off. Then I'll beat you to death with it, so help me God."

She handed the earpiece back to Sly and cleared her throat. "Let's get into that damn vault."

* * *

**Bentley and the crew stepped into a large, empty hallway.** Bodies lay strewn about the floor, an indication of a previous battle. The security cameras above each door hung from their metallic mounting brackets from wires. The non-functional units, destroyed by excessive force, appeared to have been mauled by something physical. 

The mouse canted her head from left to right then frowned. "I don't see signs of guns or explosives," said Penelope. "Are we too late? Or worse, did Clockwerk's body come into use, perhaps?"

Panda King cleared his throat in a way that garnished the group's attention. He gestured to a door marked 'security office' and smirked. "Perhaps this will be our path to answers. Security footage will show what has happened, leading up to the destruction of these cameras."

"Good idea," said Bentley. He shifted his weight in the new walking suit and approached the door. "Stay behind me, guys… just in case there are any guards holed up in there, I'll use my force field to shield us." He reached for the handle and turned it then used his other hand to engage the invisible energy shield. "Murray, stay out here and watch our backs. I don't want to get jumped if this is an ambush." The door swung ajar but the dark room offered no resistance. The tortoise cleared his throat and said, "It's abandoned."

"Let us proceed," replied King. The quartet stepped into the security office and fanned out to look for weapons and clues.

Bentley approached the computer terminal and raised a brow. "The DVR was zero-filled."

"And that means?" asked Erik.

Penelope approached the wolfhound and said, "The video footage is stored to a hard drive, like a computer. But to ensure that no one can recover the data, a professional would do more than simply format the disc… they would fill every sector with 'zeros', in the binary format, so that the old data can't be recovered by experts."

"Look at this!" Bentley sneezed then looked back over his shoulder. He smiled inwardly at the fact he now had everyone's attention then he lifted a hand-written letter from the keyboard. "This is written in _my_ handwriting. It says, "_Little Bo-Peep… has lost her sheep! The radar has failed to find them. …They'll all, face to face, m__eet in parallel space__ …preceding their leaders behind them.'_ It's signed 'B'. It's a poem found in '_A Space Child's Mother Goose_' stories for children."

Erik folded his arms, turning towards the computer terminal and the turtle in front of it. "It sounds like some of the poems you recited earlier."

The turtle shrugged. "I can only theorize that, for some reason, I've gone back in time and cleaned this place out, with help no doubt, so that we would have an easier time." Bentley placed the note into his shell then turned back towards the group. "Or someone is mocking us, but… like I said, this is my writing. And it would make sense, since we know there were quite a few trips made in that time machine on that day, a few weeks ago."

"That's right." Penelope nodded firmly. "I saw myself take a trip alone… I've never done that, especially just a few weeks ago. It must have been some sort of intersection in the loop, where multiple loops cross over one another. Like the center of a figure eight. But why didn't they just wipe out all those guards upstairs in the main part of the complex."

"Good question," retorted King. "Perhaps there were just _too_ many in the warehouse. Let's continue our search for Clockwerk's body so that we can dismantle it."

"No argument here." Bentley walked away from the computer terminal and headed for the door. He walked out into the hallway but didn't see Murray. The tortoise lifted his head higher then looked to the left followed by the right. "Where'd he go?" whispered the tortoise with a frown. Penelope came out next and repeated his question in a louder voice.

"This is bad," Bentley said with a sigh. "It's not like him to just wonder off. I've seen him listen to music to keep from growing bored but usually he just waits around." A static discharge flashed, causing the fabric of his bowtie to fluff up. His eyes narrowed and he gazed down the hall from where he stood in the doorway. "There's a man at the end of the hall with a sniper rifle who just tried to score a headshot." His shield shimmered again. "Make that twice."

The turtle stomped down the hallway and drew his suit's primary rotary guns to bear then opened fired. Shells ripped through the corridor, fed by an ammo belt built inside the legs. Each round struck a different part of the hall, spitting plaster and dust into the air. The rapid-fire spinning barrels, each outfitted with a flash suppresser and silencing attachment, whirred loudly until he released the button. The rotary motors clicked from a gear change followed by the momentary hum of spinning in neutral. Steam hovered above the barrels and nothing moved.

The tortoise frowned. "I think he got away. Clever guy – you guys stay behind me. Panda, take up the caboose so we're not ambushed from behind."

"Very well." King gestured to Penelope and Erik to follow Bentley then stepped out of the security office last. He held the firing remote for his suit in his right paw, ready for anything. The group moved down the hall towards the intersection at the end.

Bentley leaned around the corner then said, "This one is clear." He led the gang down the narrow hall then paused in front of a metal blast door. "While we_ definitely must_ find Murray, I have a feeling this is important," he told them, turning to face the door. He glanced at where the handle was then nodded to King. "The hinges are on the right side."

King moved before the door and lifted his paws as a sign for everyone to fan out. Then he backed away from the door and fired a pair of rockets from the canister on his back. Two concussive blasts didn't even scratch the door but it stressed the wall just enough that the hinge brackets couldn't hold against the force. The door toppled forward and landed inside the room with a metallic thud. The bear's eyes widened, seeing a massive talon on the other side of the doorway.

The group moved into the room, where Clockwerk's body, constructed by Steven the Skunk six weeks ago, hung from suspension cables. Scaffolding surrounded the massive body on all sides and, to their surprise, Murray hung by his tethered wrists from a cable attached to the metal owl's neck.

Murray saw them and bellowed, "Guys! Fall back; it's a trap, guys!"

Bentley glanced around the room then walked in first with his electronic shields raised. "Don't worry, big guy. We're here to get you down then we're going to dismantle that thing piece by piece."

Murray struggled in frustration. "No! I told you guys to get back – it's a trap man! Seriously, you guys need to clear out this building first or something. Don't come in here yet! And for the record, hanging up here really sucks!"

Bentley quirked a brow not seeing any snipers or indications of trouble. "Are you sure you heard them right?" He moved further into the room, keeping his eyes sharp and his mind ready for anything. So far, nothing happened.

Penelope cleared her throat and asked, "Can't we just climb up into the Clockwerk body and fly it out of here like… Flight of the Navigator or something?"

"Why wouldn't our future selves just do the same thing?" Bentley wondered aloud. "I'm not sure there are piloting controls in there. We would need to bring a high power computer and hack into the system then code a program to fly it. There simply isn't enough time for that, hon." He cut his eyes nervously to the left then panned them back to the right. "This room is quieter than it should be. For all that scaffolding, there should be people working on the body or, at the very least, guarding it."

They reached the center of the room. "Mister King, if I shoot out the rope, can you catch Murray?" Bentley paused then frowned. "Come to think of it, catching a full grown hippo from fifteen feet in the air is a bit on the dangerous side."

Without warning, Murray's rope broke. He kicked his feet and swung his arms, flailing with surprise. The floor dropped out from beneath everyone and they all fell into a large funnel. All five of them tumbled down the tubing beneath the floor, leaving the Clockwerk body behind. An intricate network of tubes divided them into separate sections. Each of them dropped into a separate cell with Plexiglas walls surrounded by water. It was designed like a reverse aquarium.

Bentley groaned, lying on the floor on his side. He could see Penelope drop down onto a mattress on the floor on the other side of a thick plastic wall. "Smart," he muttered. "If we try to break out, we'd only succeed in flooding ourselves. This place is deeper than I could have ever imagined."

"Are you all right?" she asked. To the turtle's surprise, he could hear her voice piped through a PA in the ceiling.

"I'm okay," he replied, adding, "But there are speakers and condenser microphones built into the ceiling, so that we can talk to each other. That means they can hear our every word, making it a little difficult to plan an escape. I hope they haven't captured our future selves."

Penelope shook her head vehemently. "It's most likely that they came in here, took out a few guys and stole the security tapes so they could make a plan based on the layout. Then, they probably headed out of here. And we're not even sure if that note really is from your future self. These guys are pretty smart – it could have been part of the whole trap."

"True," replied Bentley. "Is everyone else okay?"

"Yeah," muttered Murray.

"I've not sustained any lasting injuries," said King from his cell.

Erik grumbled for a moment then said, "I've landed on my hip. I had no intentions of throwing myself headlong into this mess when I rescued Cooper from that assassin. So far, I've been struck with a walker, shot at and fallen painfully on my side. I'm growing tired of the bruises."

"May I make a suggestion?" asked Panda. He cleared his throat for effect then told Erik, "Suck it up." A loud noise startled everyone into silence. A moment later, in the next cell down, a woman fell from the ceiling and landed on the ground with a groan.

Erik approached the wall and placed his paws on his hips. "Speak of the devil and she appears… it's the assassin who attempted to shoot Sly Cooper." He began pacing along the glass wall, glaring at her. "What are you doing here, you worthless tramp?"

"Simple," she said, sitting up on the floor. "I failed my mission to rescue your sorry asses."

"And how can we believe you?" retorted the turtle from further down the row of cells, lined up one by one.

"Because," she snorted with disdain. "If I wanted you guys dead, I'd be shooting at you instead of sitting in this cell. At the very least, I'd be using charge packs to blow the thick plastic walls so you'd all drown."

"She's got a point," said Murray. "But we should probably stop arguing and try to think of a way out of here."

Erik rolled his eyes. "Our every word is piped through a public announcement system. They can hear everything we say. They'll be ready for anything we come up with. Murray, what did they look like?"

The hippo sat up then pulled his wrists apart until the rope on his wrists snapped. He looked up with pride in his eyes and said, "Just like those guys upstairs in the warehouse section, above ground. How far down are we?"

"I'd wager to say a few stories," replied Bentley with a slight shrug. He looked up. The tubes began to lift, receding into the ceiling so that they were now cut off from returning the way they came. He glanced around again then sighed. "I don't even see a place for where they would deliver food – I hope they don't plan on starving us to our death."

"That makes no sense," said the girl down at the end. "They wouldn't have captured us if they intended to kill us. They're obviously going to use us to lure Sly Cooper back. He'll come to the rescue, they'll grab him and _then_ and _only then_ will they dispose of us. Had I killed him successfully, none of us would be in this mess because it would all be _over_."

"You're twisted." Erik glared at her through the thick clear wall then drew his legs in and sat in a meditative posture. "Please save your breath for the time being, woman. I possess the ability to smother you in shade – don't make me use it."

The group of cells grew quiet. For now, everyone waited to see what would happen next.

* * *

Next: Chapter 18: 'Return to the Vault'

* * *

**A/N:** _Okay, I've got to take a very short hiatus from this and work on Reflections of a New Generation because I'm at a MASSIVE cliff hanger in that story and it's been a few months since I've updated it. I'll be back to Spy Cooper in a few weeks. I'll be updating Sly Cupid for Valentine's Day, then I'll be finishing this story full time until it's done. I just don't want to get burned out on it, and I like to sit down and re-read it on paper, every so often. I've got a bazillion red marks written out as I edit my stuff for mistakes. Will I ever change them? If I can get around to it! At any rate, I want to re-read through this story again before I continue to the next chapter because I have to make sure there aren't any loopholes. We now have all 10 artifacts listed in the story and there's a lot going on. I gotta make sure all the ducks are in a row!_

_I've also printed out all my REFLECTIONS stories for StarFox, so I also plan to re-read through them before writing the new Chapter of New Generation. Word. _

_See ya soon!_

_Just a few weeks, really._

_-Kit_


	18. Directive

A/N: _I decided Sly would not return to the vault in this chapter… so I'll call it something else. Also, Chapters for Spy Cooper are typically shorter. I'm writing this chapter and the next one so things fall into place and feel more inline before ending Dawn of Progeny. Seriously, I'm about 3 or 4 thousand words into the new DoP chapter and I'm about 2500 words into chapter 19 of Spy Cooper, so I might as well post this one, even though all the action is in 19. MEH. Lol._

_!!yAy!!

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Chapter -18-  
"_The Agency's New Directive_"

**"Damn, she's gone."** Carmelita shook her head with a frown. "I left her here yesterday, handcuffed to this tree. I'd forgotten about her in all the excitement." The vixen tightened her arms around her sides, shivering from the sensation of cold generated by her fever. "I was supposed to take control of this situation to ensure our survival. How can I do that if I have a deadly virus? It doesn't seem fair; you're not even remotely sick, Sly."

"I don't know what to tell you," he murmured. "Are you feeling any better today?"

She deadpanned, picking up the handcuffs at the base of the tree. "I slept in the back of a rusty old box truck in front of the main gates… I'm hungry, I'm sick and I'm feverish. I'm feeling _worse_ Sly! Not only that, we probably have that crazy chick running around right now! The one who tried to kill you – remember her, dummy? She's the one that got away, Sly! She nearly killed you before… now she's here."

"Oh, _her_. I totally misunderstood you. Just how many factions do you figure are clashing, here?"

Again, the vixen deadpanned. "Back at my office, I used to keep a whiteboard. I would draw everything together to try and figure out my next best lead… But even with that whiteboard, I'd probably have run out of room on it by now." She rubbed her eyes then coughed obnoxiously. After the coughing fit ended, she continued. "I'm willing to wager that there are more than three or four groups, here, vying for control of the situation. Last night, you mentioned the Zenith Cannon… I've read about it once… They referred to it as the Zeus Cannon. It's supposed to be a satellite capable of splitting an incoming asteroid. You think they're going to point it at the planet and use it to shoot down Clockwerk?"

"Except the fact that the goons on this island apparently have control over it. If it's not going to be used to save us from incoming meteors, it shouldn't be used at all. I think the unofficial explanation for it is to shoot down asteroids but that will only surface if its existence goes public by accident. Right now, it's someone's insurance policy. Well, I'm about to cancel their premium for good. This is going too far." He offered her a smile. "At least you were listening to me, last night. I thought you were sleeping when you didn't respond."

"I was too tired to respond," she admitted. "But fevers often spike up at night. You also mentioned something else last night… about Saundra Moore talking to you."

Cooper grinned brightly. The two of them walked away from the tree, returning to the cave where they spent yesterday evening with Clockwerk for about three hours. "Funny how you knew I was talking to her when I came across you, after I got my cane. Yeah, I did tell you what we talked about but, like I said, I figured you'd fallen asleep listening to me talk… but I really wanna know… how did you figure out that I was talking to her and not someone else?"

Carmelita blinked at him for a moment then tilted her head. "Sly, she contacted me, too. She wanted me to create a distraction. Afterwards, I headed for you. Next thing I know, you jump over a sandbag wall and you're coming right at me… then we're in that damn truck until…"

"Twenty minutes ago," Sly finished her sentence with a nod. "She told me she had an agent that was supposed to rescue _me_ but, since you and I managed to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, she was going to redirect the agent back to help Bentley, Murray and the rest. She never told me more than that, though. I wonder what side the assassin chick, the weasel, works for?"

Carmelita face-faulted. "Crap!" She leaned against the wide maw of the cave and sighed. "Y'know what? I bet you that stupid little weasel girl _is_ Saundra's 'other agent'. Which means that, at one point, the CIA wanted you to roll over and die… but then you regained some sense of usefulness. I'm willing to bet you that girl, Eleven, is CIA."

"That seems farfetched, don't you think?" Sly turned around, gazing out through the cavernous entrance, looking across the early morning haze. Several hundred meters from the beach was another distant island. Upon it, their 'fighter' sat in wait. "We have a long swim up ahead of us. You're probably too sick to make it. Plus, you're the only one who is licensed to pilot that thing."

Carmelita ignored the second part of his statement, backtracking to the first portion. "Can you get in contact with Jake White?"

"Not here, but I'm sure I could figure out a way to find him, why?"

"Because," murmured Carmelita. "I'm willing to wager if you ask him if he's slept with a weasel female with her description… he'll most likely recall her. That would prove my point. It would also prove that your ex-employer tried to murder you at one point." She lowered herself to the ground and slumped. "God, I feel awful. We need to hurry, else we'll both die."

"Clockwerk is a clever monster this time around." Sly sighed. "We're running out of time. The sicker you get, the less likely you are to be able to get us back to Prague to finish finding his body. But we still have to get into the vault."

She shook her head slowly. "No, we don't. Without the cane, they're not getting into the vault, either. Just let them stay here and try. Who cares? We should leave _now_."

"I suppose you're right." He brought his binnocucom to his face and tried to hail Bentley but received static. "That's odd. I can't seem to reach the gang. Bentley, Murray and Penelope's channels are all offline. Also, I'm starting to doubt the validity of this whole… '_Let's use Clockwerk's primary body as a vessel for an evil being_' nonsense. The more I think about it, the harder it is to take it seriously." He offered Carmelita a thin smile. "I have my own plan of action… instead of helping Clockwerk get his body back… we should try to hijack the Zeus Cannon and use it to destroy Clockwerk _and_ his other body… for good."

"What if it doesn't work on his other body?" she muttered through sniffles. "It's supposed to be indestructible."

"Maybe the hull plating is, but we have to try. We'll roast the thing with this satellite… we'll cover it in thermite, we'll sling it into the sun… whatever."

The vixen sighed and lifted her head. Her eyes were puffy and surrounded by dark circles. "From what I understand, several factions are already trying to get control of this satellite; the only reason the United States hasn't shot it down is because they need it to subdue Clockwerk, so they're probably trying to get control of it back. Most likely, everyone is pulling a Neyla. They're going to let YOU do the work of commandeering it… then they're going to try and take it over for themselves. Don't get yourself into another situation at the center of attention."

Cooper sighed. "This is getting ridiculous."

"Yeah… I need antibiotics and some hot tea." She paused then added, "Maybe our answers lay at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean."

Sly shook his head. "You already know the truth – if five trained Seals were killed breaking into that place…" He noted her look of confusion then shrugged. "Oh, c'mon, top cop… isn't it obvious? They weren't killed on that little island with the aircraft carrier. That place is just a go-between to ferry materials down to the domed city. They're probably still doing a lot of construction, like many cities, at any given time. The Seals probably got themselves killed in the domed city, then their bodies were brought to the surface. They were thrown into public to get attention, but also to tell the employer of these unmarked bodies to back off… You said there was a scrap of paper in the shoe of one of these bodies. The coordinates led you to the island, which was the closest waypoint that led to the domed city. I mean… obviously there's a lot going on, here. All we have to do is take down Clockwerk's two forms with this satellite then destoy the damn thing… then we step back and watch everyone scrap with one another. We sneak in, take the artifacts back… if we can find them… then get rid of them and concentrate on starting a family in a private, secluded area. Finally, we get married, have a couple of kids and enjoy a long, healthy marriage."

"Have this whole thing planned out, do you?" She lay down in the dirt on her side. "I feel like I could fly that thing for a few hours, so long as I get food first… and don't have one-and-a-half G's pressed against my torso the whole way home. I can barely breathe as it is."

"They say congestion is bad for you if you're flying." Sly feigned a smile. "Your ears will hurt."

"Go to hell," she murmured with a sigh. "This is just a bad cold, so far as I'm concerned. Let's figure out how to get over to the other island. Where is Clockwerk?"

"I've not seen him this morning – you'd know if I had, because you've been with me the whole time. Where are we supposed to land this thing, anyhow?"

"Talk to your little friends in the CIA. They'll give us clearance to land somewhere in Russia, refuel then continue on to Prague. Although our real target should be this stupid satellite."

"Can't we just fly up there and shoot it down?"

"Sly, you're being ignorant," she said in a short tone of voice. "Its maximum ceiling of operation is about sixty thousand feet. By comparison, the SR-71 Blackbird reached over eighty thousand feet. A satellite is several hundred miles, in orbit, you moron." She opened her eyes slightly and offered a thin smile. "But I love you anyway."

"I'm a pilot," he said. "I don't need to have Penelope rig this thing to fly by remote control – I can do it myself. I can land it just fine. I know it's different than the biplane I flew a few years ago but, Otto as my witness, I can do it. You need to see a doctor and we're a long way from one of those right now. Should we go to Japan or Hawaii?"

"Sly…" she sighed. "You're not flying it." Her words bordered on unintelligible.

"I have my license."

"Not for that," she said, slightly clearer than her last statement. "You don't even know how to start it. Give it a rest," she said. "I just need to rest. I'm sure those soldiers brought food. Find me something to eat and drink. I'll be okay. It's just a cold and I'm hungry. I'll be fine."

"Carmelita, the last time I saw you willing to sleep in the dirt was… Australia." She didn't respond. Cooper sighed. "What if you pass out while we're in mid flight?" She began to snore from congestion, causing the raccoon to groan in frustration. "I'm flying it. You can tell me what to do to get the thing up and running. Once in a while, in this relationship, I'm going to have to be the one to put my foot down." No response. He left her at the mouth of the cave, giving his cane a practice twirl then headed back towards the mercenary camp.

* * *

_Six hours later…_

"**What do you **_**mean**_** AJ is unavailable?"**Asked Cooper. He sat adjacent to Carmelita and an empty plate, looking out over the water. He kept his communicator against his eyes, gazing at the fighter plane across the way. "I understand he's with your sister, but why can't you speak to him?"

Saundra sighed. "I told you, he's unconscious. He'll be fine. Cleo might be a tramp but she won't kill a CIA agent. She's not dense. She's got a lot of nerve, though, that's for sure. How is your fiancé? Last I'd heard from her… she was feeling sick. Also, how do you two plan on getting off that island?"

"We have a jet."

"…A what?"

Sly smirked. "She _is_ sick. And I said… we have a _jet_. A modified F-35 to be exact. I actually think that Carmelita is sicker than you may realize. She's eating but… she can't seem to stay awake. We need to find Clockwerk and help him in order to receive the cure. Else, I'd hop in the cockpit of that thing, find him, and shoot him down."

"A fighter jet isn't like flying in a video game, you idiot boy," she scolded over the channel. "I understand you've flown biplanes. Do you know anything about thrust vectoring? Red out dives? It's a completely different beast. You most likely have no armament or missile payload. You can't engage him directly because you have no guns and the F35 doesn't have a heads up display unit as you'll never need to point your aircraft at something. It's not a dog-fighting plane in the way you're thinking. If you're lucky you _may_ have enough fuel to get to Pearl Harbor or back to Japan but it sounds to me like you're probably stranded. You can't fly that thing; you have no real destination. Your pilot is sick. I'm sure the men inhabiting your island will have a medical section with antibiotics. You should think about that, first."

"I will, thanks." Sly paused then said, "Oh, and if you guys ever send an agent to come in and try to kill me again," he trailed off, talking about Eleven. "Carmelita and I will come to Washington DC and find you."

"While your threat is adorable," said Saundra with a shrug, "I don't send people in to do my job. I do it myself. What did this agent look like?"

"Female, kind of young. Quiet and shrewd with a penchant for blades, but she seems to know guns to an extent, too. Weasel."

"I'm in my fifties, so 'young', to me, is about twenty to thirty. Is that about right?"

Sly lifted the binocucom, glanced at his future wife to make sure she was all right, then brought the communicator back down over his face. "Yeah. Also, I've lost contact with my people. If I don't' hear from them soon, I'll be changing everyone's plans. I'll head to Japan, refuel, and head to South Korea then into Russia. I'll refuel and bribe my way through Russia until I'm back to the Czech Republic. At some point, while I'm in Russia, I'll bribe my way into getting my plane armed. SOMEONE takes gold as currency in that country, believe me. Then, I'll get to my people, find them and I'll make life _nasty_ for anyone who gets in my way. Y'know, I'm willing to bet that there's someone in Russia who will sell me a missile capable of shooting targets in space, if I really wanted to…"

"What're you talking about?" Her voice quavered. Sly noticed she looked edgy on the tiny screen. "Why would you want to shoot anything into space? You plan on shooting these artifacts into orbit or something, kid?"

"No," said Sly with a deadly seriously tone. "I plan on taking down that stupid Zeus Cannon Satellite. Nobody needs something that puts holes in the planet. I'll take Clockwerk down the old fashion way… with an EMP burst or with brute force… Satellite attacks aren't necessary – taking the satellite out of orbit would mean it's no longer an equation in any of this."

"Sly Cooper! You'd be shooting down United States Government property! You would become an enemy of the state! You'd be considered one of the most dangerous international terrorists of all time, so don't even _think_ about it! Besides, the debris from a satellite would rain down fiery chaos over any number of occupied countries, potentially killing hundreds of innocents. And that's only IF we didn't intercept your attempt, first."

"First of all," Sly said, calling her bluff, "It's not in the hands of the US Government. It's in the hands of the people right here on this island, right? Well, guess what… I'd be protecting the world from their wrath. I could crash it into the Pacific Ocean."

"Yeah, but without your team, the smart one… Hah. What's his name? Right! Bentley… wouldn't be able to help you take it down at the right time to project such. Also, the reason we've not shot down that satellite is because it's the only thing in orbit capable of protecting people from Clockwerk. When we reacquire control over it, we'll be using it to finish off that monstrosity. Listen…" Saundra's voice softened. "Sly, the real truth is… things are a little more complicated than I've told you…" She sighed, closed her eyes and said, "Stand by." The communication ended. Seconds later, a new incoming call came in, automatically connecting to Sly's communicator. Her visual feed was static-laced.

"What's going on?"

"I'm contacting you on a secured private channel. This is not an official government communication," she replied. "Listen, Jake was abducted by Cleopatra. I know I'm married but… I don't want anything happening to him. I was doing a job with Jacob when she attacked the stakeout car. I found myself unconscious with a green feather dart in my arm. When I woke up, I was in the bushes outside of Barkley's house. There was someone coming out of the window with your cane. They got away. I was too groggy to pursue and Barkley found me on his property and I was arrested. After my release, since I'm a government agent, I started trying to piece together what had happened. I've not spoken to AJ but I learned that someone put a price on your head in Prague to try and stop you. I sent in a girl to fake your death. She was going to stab you with a dagger or sai dipped in a chemical agent that would knock you out and lower your heart rate. We would take your body out of Prague and resuscitate you and have you lay low while faking your death publically to draw attention from you. Later, after you managed to surprise everyone, we sent the girl back in to protect you but Carmelita managed to hit her in a pressure point.

"The girl woke up, still on Kane Island. By then, we'd learned that your team was headed into trouble. We sent in an extraction lift, jetted her out and put her in Prague. She arrived there this morning, early. She was ordered to head in and rescue your team because, as it turns out, _ALL_ the artifacts are officially missing. Every last one. We're not sure who has them. Suddenly, we lost contact with our agent while she was in Prague. Eleven was my protégé. She's no joke, Sly. She can handle herself. If she's missing in action, along with your entire team… let's just say things are going poorly. AJ is missing and _very_ late checking in. Clockwerk is a threat, especially after his stupid little publicity stunt in Paris… but I'm far more concerned about this other body of his. It's apparently quite the flying fortress and I still can't make heads or tails of what these artifacts have to do with anything… and what this underwater city has to do with any of this. I don't care what other people are saying, Cooper… Those artifacts do something far more important than summon an Anti-Christ. Also, some other things have changed, too."

"Like what… and why are you telling me all of this?"

"Because I'm missing _two_ agents. That's my ass on the line, Sly. If those agents turn up dead, an investigation will turn my marriage into crap and my career into unemployment. I'll be ruined. Also, my sister is involved and, despite my occasional contempt for her, she's family and I don't want her dead. So three people are at stake on my side. Four are at stake on your side; five if you count your fiancé."

"So what has changed?"

"The CIA has been in contact with the man who presides over the underwater dome. He's not a religious fanatic, like I initially thought. Now the agency is talking about closing the case out, as is, and creating financial ties with this man. That's it. They're siding with him and, in exchange for something that I'm not privileged to know or understand, they're hiding the existence of this domed city. All orders are pulled. Now, the CIA is claiming, right to my face, that it never existed. I tried to challenge it and they laughed in my face and told me to prove it – that I'd never been on it, so I must be making up stories. But you've been on it. AJ, my sister, and your fiancé… they've all been there. It's real, right?"

"Real as London," replied Cooper. Do you think the leader of this domed city is the one who has control over the satellite weapon?"

"No, because the United States is now shifting their focus to that as a priority… Which means that they're dealing with someone they're not covering for… It's over my head because I'm temporarily off duty after today. I'm on _vacation_. I don't even have the authority to look for my agents. However, if those two don't turn up, the finger will be pointed at me. I don't need that sort of thing sitting on my long, distinguished career. I don't need an investigation that would eventually uncover my extramarital affairs."

"There's something you're not telling me. I'm not sure what it is but… spit it out."

"I'm on my way to Kane Island as we speak," said Moore. "Whatever that artifact is, sitting in your vault… melt it down and make a wedding band out of it for Carmelita. Don't hand it over to anyone. Keep it a secret. I'll help you when I arrive. We'll be going after the men in charge of that operation and taking down their hierarchy soldiers. That's how we'll re-obtain control over the Zeus Cannon. We'll use it to shoot down Clockwerk and _force_ him to provide the cure for you and for Inspector Fox… then we'll part ways… You and Fox head to Prague to rescue your friends… I'll relinquish command of the satellite, via computer control, to the United States Government and save my job. If you're worried about Eleven's faux attempt on your life… it was an attempt at faking your death publically to force enemies out of hiding… but things didn't go as planned because you managed to subdue her… the CIA wouldn't try to kill you or we'd have simply nuked Kane Island. That would have taken you down, neutralized Clockwerk with an EMP blast _and_ removed those who currently have control over that satellite… but while it's an option, it's not one we are rushing to explore. Officially, my vacation is in Hawaii."

Sly swallowed. "Well, I appreciate that. What's… what's your ETA?"

"I'm being brought in by stealth approach. I've locked on to your video communicator… I will be there soon. Just… do what I told you. Sneak back into the enemy camp, find antibiotics and administer them to Inspector Fox. After that, wait for me to arrive. Once we take down the head of this camp… we'll use the satellite weapon to muscle Clockwerk into giving you the antidote."

"Why in the hell would someone here, on location, have control over the Satellite? Wouldn't the guy's employer have it, safely hidden away somewhere _not_ on Kane Island? Furthermore, Carmelita's condition is viral – antibiotics will have no real effect."

"Not knowing you would intervene, it was assumed that Kane Island would be the safest place for those in charge of whatever this faction is. Satellite recon shows that the leader figure is present on this island. We think it might be the faction Cleo works for… They're a pretty solid sized outfit. However, the one thing we DO know is that it's NOT the people from the underwater city. Those people are operating out of Prague as their land based locale. The people on Kane Island are dangerous in their own way… okay, enough chitchat. I'll see you soon."

"I still don't trust you. See you soon," said Sly, closing the communicator and putting it into his pocket. He sighed, placing a paw on Carmelita's shoulder. "Okay, sweetheart. I'll be back soon."

Carmelita nuzzled her nose against his wrist then rolled over, facing the cave wall. She said nothing. Sly touched her nose then her forehead and sighed in worried regard to her temperature. He stood up, grabbed his cane and left the cave by the beach. He made his way up on a sand dune and scouted the perimeter through his binoculars. Clockwerk was nowhere to be found. There was a group up men at the summit, trying to figure out how to bypass the laser grid covering the front of the vault. Sly smiled. "They've not even realized I have my cane back. Morons."

He watched with amusement as one of the men attempted to redirect all the beams with mirrors. A stone cover slid down over the keyhole, barring further progress. Cooper beamed. "Bentley is a freaking genius." He watched the men a bit longer then shook his head. "No, these guys can't possibly work with Cleopatra. This seems like a specialty outfit."

Another man approached the summit; everyone nodded in acknowledgement but no one saluted. However, the men appeared nervous around the new person. Cooper watched their mannerisms and body language. "Oh, man, that guy is surely the leader or at least someone important." The man in charge knelt to one knee, up at the summit, and prayed on a rosary then stood up and began pacing between the men and the laser-grid. They spoke with one another then the other men genuflected. Sly blinked. "They're… they're praying?" He gritted his teeth together. "This isn't good. They're modern day crusaders… catholic mercenaries. No wonder they're here. They want to re-obtain all the artifacts and take control of the situation. Crap." He reopened a channel to Saundra. When she answered, he sent her video feed and said, "This is going to get really complicated. I figured out who the new faction is and, if I'm right, it's going to make things really interesting."

* * *

**"Rise and shine, buttercup,"** said Cleopatra. She patted Jacob's face until his eyes fluttered. "We're in Prague. We would have been here sooner but, while you were asleep, I was given a waypoint to meet up with someone important. Needless to say, we're no longer chasing after the Cooper cane, it's apparently already far beyond our reach."

White groaned and rubbed his face, sitting up in the back of the GMC Denali. "Oh yeah?"

"You slept eighteen hours, sweet pea. In that time, I've come to learn that there is a new team on the field. Also, the CIA is bowing out of this mess gracefully, doing their usual song and dance of denying their involvement from the start. They even released a _public_ statement to 'dispel rumors', saying that they have a small group of people looking out for missing artifacts, such as the Spear of Longinus, but individuals with information or leads should contact the FBI or Interpol instead. Blah, blah, blah."

AJ rubbed at his eyes, now. He glanced at a watch on his left wrist then ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm starving."

"Did you hear a _word_ I said?" demanded the squirrel, eyes narrowed. "Your agency assumes you're dead, is telling people that you're on vacation and has backed off of this whole situation. You're no longer valuable to me."

"Why is that?" he murmured.

"Because, you idiot!" she sighed then, in a softer voice, said, "You were my insurance policy. If the CIA came at me, I threatened to use you publically in order to create egg on the faces of the United States Government. But now they've closed up shop, folded their hand and walked away from the playing table. You're no longer of any use. I didn't expect your country to change sides and… everything has changed, now."

"It has?" He moved up into the leather seat, rubbing at his hip from sleeping on the floor for so long. "I need a phone – I've got to call Tyrell."

"Whatever." She passed him a cellular phone.

The fox dialed a number and waited. After a short pause, he said, "Jones, what's up? Yeah, I'm alive – don't sound so surprised. Do you have a number for Saundra? Yeah, Cammie. She's probably worried that I'm dead because it'll be a big crap-stain on her record if I wound up dead… she was _arrested_? In _Paris_? Is she still there?" A pause, then, "Okay, well… what's this whole joke about the CIA closing the case and shutting down the operation?" He face-faulted. "You? _You_ are the personal ambassador to that _idiot_ in the domed city? Tyrell, why would the agency join sides with that retard? He killed five Seals and…" A pause; the fox was obviously cut off by the speaker on the other end. After a moment, Jacob sighed. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry; I'm groggy as hell. I know the procedure – it doesn't make things right, though. They were family men. It agitates the hell out of me. All right, get me Cammie's field number so I can contact her." Another pause then, "Zero, three, five, four? Got it. Two-oh-two area code, right? Okay – I'm going to drop below the radar for a while – I'm going to stir up some trouble. Hey… if this is the last time we ever talk… it was good workin' with you, bud. Yeah, you two." He closed the line and tossed the phone back to her.

She cocked her brows at him. The male fox shrugged and said, "Tyrell Antoine Jones. He's a good guy but now he's personally in charge of maintaining a friendship between the proprietor of that city and our President. This makes no sense."

"A lot can happen in eighteen hours, Jake. Sometimes good men… family men… swear an allegiance to their country only for their government to write them off disrespectfully. If a man honors his country, his country should honor the man. But there is no true power to the people. Corrupt governments thrive on disinformation… because what the people don't know can be later disavowed. If the tax paying voters never knew those Seals existed… and if the families are left in the dark… the country needs only to pay out life insurance and write off their existence, followed by a flag-folding ceremony in Arlington. On the last Monday of May, they'll get a little flag stapled to a cheap wooden stick then go forgotten again for another year. I refuse to pledge allegiance to any country that won't equally align with _me_. That is the reason why you and my sister are idiots. What do you plan on doing?"

"When this blows over, I'll get vengeance for these men."

"You'll join them." She shook her head. "Does the CIA employ men who, contrary to the name of the agency, HAVE NO INTELLIGENCE? You moron. I thought it was a requirement. Then again, I go to the local Hooters in Washington DC and see at least one or two waitresses who have a flat chest. Apparently names mean nothing anymore. Next, you'll have libraries with no books, see rock bands that do not play rock, and visit coffee shops to buy something other than coffee. Your country loves complicating things."

"You're European, so you just don't get it."

"You're American so you've settled on what you've been spoon fed. Your complacency disgusts me but your desire to hunt down those responsible for the deaths of five men you never met… that makes me question your sanity."

"Shut up. You have no idea what that underwater place is even like."

"Yes, I do. I was there. I'm the reason Carmelita Fox was not in your submarine upon completion of your initial mission." She smiled at him then unlocked the doors to the truck. "I'm leaving you here. Drive wherever you wish. I have a new mandate. I'm staying in Prague to help someone in distress. However, I invite you to join me, unofficially, due to the fact that one of your agents appears to be in distress."

"This isn't the first time we've explored détente together."

"I wouldn't use that word," said Cleo with a smile. "I am represented by no country or generalized faction – that word implies that my 'side' is working cooperatively with 'your side'. I have no one to whom I report my findings. I am my own entity, love."

"Yeah, yeah… you're superior and clever. Let's just get moving." He climbed through the Denali, into the front seat, and sank into the passenger chair then put on his seat belt. "Let's go. I'll call Saundra when we're finished rescuing people."

* * *

A/N: _I just wanted to post two chapters right quick to help better explain things that are happening in Dawn of Progeny. Remember when Conner tracked down Tyrell Antoine Jones in Chapter 23? He said he was angry that his 'friend' died to save some unimportant people but he blames the 'fool out in the ocean' for his "friend's" death. Let's see how that plays out in chapter 19. Also, now that we're starting to find out more about what's going on… we're also learning that the US is pulling out and making a quiet alliance with the owner of the Atlantis Dome, leaving the scientist alone, out in the Atlantic. Of course, at this point of the story, NO ONE KNOWS who is running things down in that underwater city… of course we FIND OUT the identity of that person IN Dawn of Progeny, but anyhow. _

_We find out a lot of things between Spy Cooper and Dawn of Progeny… first off, there are more than ten artifacts. The Onyx of Shade, protected by Donovan Loupe's troupe, The Block of Topaz and a special golden coin, mentioned in the first two stories, are later considered unimportant and unnecessary to be used in unearthing the "real" treasure, buried beneath the surface of the Earth, out in the Atlantic Ocean. Later on, it turns out all the religious zealots were wrong… these artifacts are not disappearing to bring about some sort of doomsday scenario. No, they're being amassed to obtain something more… physical. _

_You ever notice that conspiracy theorists, religious groups and other such groups are always quick to claim that something is happening to bring about the END OF THE WORLD? And sometimes people get swept up into buying into that stuff… only to find out, later on, that the world didn't end. As religious as the United States Government can sometimes be, this is the part of the story where they see that there's nothing but drama on the road ahead and so they bowed out and created a 'friendship' with the underwater city in order to cover up its existence. But in exchange for WHAT? What is the US getting out of this? The ability to keep their friends close but their enemies closer? Not hardly. They're keeping this underwater city at arm's length and not telling anyone that it exists. There has to be something more, right? Of course there is! But AJ, Saundra, Eleven and Tyrell have NO IDEA what their government is doing. They're just following orders for the most part. But I assure you of one thing… That underwater city has something up its sleeve. No one knows what it could be, or if the government is just making a strange decision… only time will tell._

_C19 will be up any day now! xD_


	19. Real Deal

A/N: _OMFG. Near the end of this chapter, it ALL comes together! Do any of you remember the art piece that was on Sucker Punch's site… fan art of Carmelita Fox in a red cat suit, her shock pistol has Sly's logo on it… she's got a little mini cane in one arm, a mask on… red hat… she looks as thiefly as possible… remember? HAHAHA. You'll see that come into play at the END of this chapter. In fact, it ALL COMES TOGETHER. Saundra Moore will tell Sly, Carmelita and the reader EVERYTHING! The ENTIRE plot comes together with the explanations given in THIS chapter.  
Finally, ALL THE ACTION YOU COULD EVER WANT WILL BE IN CHAPTER 20! When they actually have to do something that will LIVE UP TO THE NAME…. "SPY" Cooper! Muwahaha.  
Oh, and Clockwerk's virus… is this all we've heard from it, or is there more ahead, in the later chapters? ONLY TIME WILL TELL MUWAHAHAHAHA hi.  
The chapter that EVERYONE is waiting for in this entire story… IS chapter 20, sadly! Sorry I made you wait two years. And I'm sorry it's not up until later… we're ALMOST THERE… I promise you'll be somewhat excited again by the end of this chapter! Why? Because Sly and Carmelita are about to…

* * *

_

Chapter -19-  
"_The Real Deal_"

**"Why are we rescuing them again?" **asked Jacob White. He pressed his fingertips together, cracking his knuckles. The bitter Prague air was cold against his face, causing his whiskers to lie back along his muzzle and his ears to lower to stave off the sharp nip of cold. His torso ached and itched beneath the fresh stitches, where he'd been shot last week.

"Cleopatra said so," she replied in the third person. "That's good enough of a reason, isn't it?" She scowled at him, tightening her jacket. The squirrel opened a PDA, fancier than the one used by Saundra left in the Denali. She began writing out a text-based message on the virtual keyboard then cut her gaze at him. She noticed he was staring. "What? It's a new technology. One day it will be an affordable normality found in most cellular telephones – not just _these_ high priced tech toys. Why they don't simply combine PDAs with cellphones I'll never know… it would make sense rather than having to swap between the two devices all the time, don't you think?" She ran her thumb over the glass screen gently then drew the unit close to herself, cupping it in both of her paws. She diligently manipulated her thumbs in unison over the glass surface then cut her gaze back at him. "My cohorts, if you will use such a word, appear delighted by your willingness to help. I'm equally appreciative towards your change of heart." Her thick German accent was rich and aggressive sounding.

"For once, it isn't for the sex, Cleo. Elvena is in trouble. You know her better as "Eleven" but you also might know 'Elvena' in Old German as "foreign" or "true". That's what Eleven has been for us. She doesn't deserve to be locked up, held down or otherwise in danger. Besides, both Saundra and Tyrell told me the same thing… I'm off the clock. …And you know I don't stagnate well."

"Your usefulness has returned," she murmured. "Glad I didn't have to resort to any certain tactics to coerce you." She cut in front of him, crossing to the right, causing him to stop short. He pivoted and followed suit. Cleopatra strolled down the center of an alleyway then drew a lockpick from her hair. She eased the metal piece into a doorknob, fidgeted for a moment then opened the emergency exit door leading into what appeared to be an abandoned bar. She gestured for him to take point.

Jake held out a paw, expectantly. After a pause, he received a firearm from Cleo and stepped in, shifting his eyes from left to right. He blinked a few times to help his eyes adjust. His pupils dilated and he began to walk into the room, panning the weapon from right to left then back. He lifted his left paw in a fist, opened it, fingers extended, then whispered, "Clear."

She followed him in and they crossed the empty bar. "It's odd they would be closed at twenty-hundred hours especially considering their centralized location. Obviously this place is more than it seems."

"You saw the bank next door?"

He paused, glancing back at her. "Is that what that place was? I couldn't tell, considering it was just a pile of rubble."

"This is the metaphorical 'guard shack' for that property." She placed the night vision goggles on her head, taken from the Denali, used by Jacob the day before in his mission at Barkley's home. She switched on the unit and passed him, heading into a hallway. "This place is too clean to have _ever_ served alcohol." After a moment of looking around, she came to a small room in the back with a boarded up back wall. "Hmm, okay, so here's how they went from building to building. Now we just need to figure out how to get underground."

"Uh, Cleo." Jacob took her by the arm and pulled her into his embrace.

"Jake, this isn't the time for…"

"Shh, look." He placed a finger to her lips then lifted that finger, placing it upon her nose. He guided her head down until she was looking at the floor. She stood upon a square wooden section with a handle cut into the surface. Cleo pushed against him and they both backed off the wood square. She knelt to inspect it while Jacob offered a knowing grin. "Open it."

"I'm checking for sensor traps," she whispered in a scolding way. Cleopatra trailed her plain, un-painted fingernails around the outside edge of the entire plank then, carefully, she lifted it up. The solid well made trap door elevated without so much as a squeak. She lowered her head into the darkness, gazing down the ladder. The squirrel toyed with the settings, using it to track electronic signatures, heat patterns and even organic density patterns. "It's a wooden ladder and goes all the way to the bottom. No tricks, traps or sensor arrays."

"What're we waiting for, then?"

"Wait." She paused, tilted her head and perked her ears. "You hear that?"

Jacob leaned over her back and strained his ears. "Sounds like water running through nearby pipes."

"Yeah, it does." She began to descend the ladder and White followed. Once at the bottom, she looked around, still listening. "It sounds like it's all around us." She lifted her phone from her pocket and gazed at the display. "We have almost no signal. Do you think it's possible they're using water as a natural way to block reception? I mean, all they have to do is run a low current through any water source and it would act as a natural jammer."

"It's possible." He eased his paw into her front pocket, withdrew a silencer and attached it to the weapon. Cleo scowled at him but did nothing. The two of them began walking down an empty hallway together. He switched off the safety on the weapon, eased back on the slide and pushed his thumb into the gap to check the chamber for a round. Satisfied it was loaded, he drew his thumb back and gently let the slide back into its previous position. "Feels like a forty caliber."

"It is," she replied in soft, dulcet tones. "I smell body odor."

He sniffed and said, "It could be the stench of coworkers having sexual relations in a quiet area, off the clock. We're beneath a bar, after all." He sniffed again then frowned and shook his head. "No, wait…" Once more, he sniffed at the air. "You've got a sharp nose, Cleo. That's Elvena's musk. She sweats when she's under duress – it's a subconscious reflexive action to cope with stress, because of the way she bottles her emotions. It's also the reason she wears a body suit when she does missions… That means she must have been in this hallway recently."

"I'm not following you – if she prepares to retain her sweating, why do we smell it?"

Jacob shrugged. "She was shot the other day. She may have disrobed in this hallway to redress her wound – she took a bullet while on the job day before yesterday. She probably changed the gauze bandages before moving on."

Further down the hall, Cleo knelt and picked up a wad of dry, wadded up bandages. She lifted her head back to Jacob and nodded. "Sometimes you have smart _moments_. For a man with two masters degrees, I expect this level of thinking from you more often."

He tilted his head. "A simple, _'you were right, good job'_ would have been fine, Cleo." He leaned forward and sniffed at the bandages. "Wait." He turned his head away, breathed the fresh air in through his nose a few times then buried his face against the side of the bandages and inhaled deeply. "Carmelita Fox."

"Pardon?"

"We foxes _know_ the scent of a vixen better than _anything_. It's like putting a hot cup of coffee at the center of a room full of apples. It stands out as its own scent even in a room full of other strong scents. At some point, Carmelita Fox was pressed up against Elvena's body. It's faint but it's definitely the Inspector vixen."

"Do you think she's here?"

"No," replied White. "I smell mixed scents in this hallway… one is a reptile, the other five are mammals. None of them are vixens."

"Five mammals? So Bentley is here with five people?"

Jacob nodded. "The mouse, the hippo, Eleven, the man who shot Eleven and their demolitions man. That's just a guess but it makes sense."

"You can smell six different scents, but couldn't tell that the one agent's bandages were in the same hallway as us a minute ago?"

"I didn't smell it a moment ago. We must be downwind of it, now. Again, it's horribly faint. I didn't think to separate it from the ambient air until you said something. Hopefully, we'll get closer and I'll be able to tell which way to go." He sniffed again then blinked. "Wait." He slowly crept down the hall with Cleopatra following. They made a right then stopped several meters down the corridor. White began sniffing at the wall then sighed.

Cleopatra's eyes scanned along the wall surface, coming to a metal grate. She frowned. "A return vent for the ductwork. Awful small, isn't it?"

He nodded. "They're here now, at the other end of that thing… but it's way too small for us to utilize. Let's keep moving."

* * *

**Murray shifted his weight, fidgeting from** all the pent up energy. "This place doesn't even have a sink. If we have to go much longer without anything to eat or drink, I'm going to go nuts."

Bentley sighed. He cut his eyes back to the simplified looking bowl of water in the corner. It was attached to a pipe that disappeared into the floor panel. "This crude toilet system appears to be our only direct link to the…"

"…Shut up," said Eleven with a sigh. "That crude toilet system is an abomination, making us do our business publically like this. We can vaguely see one another through the water that separates our cells and I'm a _very_ private person. I refuse to _utilize_ this toilet."

"It's a natural bodily function and…" Again Bentley found himself cut off by her.

"It's also designed without a flush mechanism. So by using it, we would be polluting our own 'water system'. But if we drink from it, we'll eventually have to urinate even more. It's a simplistic, sadistic torture method. I won't buy into it." She huffed in disdain. "If I don't get clean bathing water, my wound will eventually start to get infected, thanks to your misogynistic friend."

Erik, for the first time since capture, lifted his voice. "I did it because you were attempting to take the life of Sly Cooper. I may not be an elite, highly trained, covert assassin, like yourself, but I certainly put a stop to your mandate, you ill-tempered troglodyte."

"There is a price on his head," she replied. "I can't go into all the details right now, especially since someone is listening in on our conversation. However, if you weren't in your own private cell, I would be only too happy to pummel your face, shadow child."

"I should drown you in shade and watch while you flail helplessly. Asphyxiation would cure you of your attitude, little girl."

Bentley sighed. "Erik, just leave it be." He then said, "Miss Eleven, you're the most acrobatic here… can't you do a split and shimmy up to the top of your holding cage?"

"No, I would need torso muscles to brace myself with my paws on the left and right panels while using my legs to brace myself on the front and back panels… at least in order to ascend. Because of the bullet wound in my chest, thanks to your obtuse friend Erik, I'm unable to put a great deal of pressure on my upper body right now." She placed a palm on the glass and sighed. "The water on the other side of us… is very, very cold. At least they're pumping in heat through the vents above our heads."

Murray shrugged. "We may be hungry but at least we still have all our stuff."

Penelope frowned. "What gear we have hasn't proved useful in our escape, Murray so what's the point in seeing the positive in that?"

Panda King added, "Our weapons are useless unless our plan is to shatter our glass cage. I, for one, wish not to drown in the freezing waters of Prague. This much water seems unnecessary to utilize as a means of detention. Perhaps it serves a multi-roll purpose, far above and beyond imprisonment."

Penelope nodded to his statement then continued. "It also does a fantastic job of killing our reception. I can't get wifi, cellular, or radio. They must be using the water as a medium to jam any and all signal."

"Meaning what?" asked Erik.

Bentley brought his hand to his chin. "It means they're pumping electrical current through the water – best guess. It also means there is a low saline content in this water. It's awfully cold, but it's possible that if I break the glass, I could find a way out without drowning."

Erik furrowed his brows. "You may breathe through a nipple in your ass, but you still breathe _oxygen_ – same as the rest of us."

Bentley blushed appearing flustered and frustrated. "It's a _papilla_ and I breathe through my mouth, too! And I can hold my breath for up to several hours in the cold because my metabolism changes when I'm asleep and when I'm in cold water, because… unlike you… I don't need to release carbon dioxide right away. I'm naturally resilient to its poisonous effects on mammalian blood. I can hold my breath up to two or three hours in cold water like this. Look, I'm just offering up ideas, okay! You don't have to be so critical of them."

"Bentley, ignore him," said Penelope. "As his mood worsens, he becomes anti social… he appears to have anxiety issues, which isn't necessarily his fault. If you let it bother you, you're only…"

"Just stop," said Erik with a sigh. "Sometimes my mood gets the better of me. At least none of us are in need of critical medication or have an ailment that requires immediate attention. That's the best, most positive thing I can say of this situation. Bentley… hold off – make that a last resort. Besides, if our host really _is_ listening in on us… they now expect it."

Bentley deadpanned, followed by a sigh. "Anyone else have any bright ideas on getting us out of here?"

Murray sat down on the floor. "I could do some stretches then take the form of an Aboriginal Ball and bounce my way up to the top, guys." A pause, then, "But without help, I'd only wind up captured again because I have no idea how to bust you guys out of here and I'm sure it would require computers and all that stuff so… If Bentley decides to do what he talked about earlier, I'll bounce out and create a distraction… Maybe they'll forget about our ideas by tomorrow and we can try then."

Bentley at first appeared excited by Murray's idea then his expression dimmed to one of partial disbelief, hearing the hippo mention hopes that their captors might forget by tomorrow. The tortoise brought his hand up to his face, careful not to touch his lenses while performing a face-palm maneuver. "Geeze."

Murray shrugged, picking at his shoelaces while sitting at the center of his tiny cell. "I mean, now they're definitely expecting us to try and break out, so doing anything right now would be a bad idea, huh? We just wait. It's all we can do, right?"

A tapping sound caught everyone's attention. "What was that?" asked Penelope.

"It appears to display intent," murmured King. "I do not believe it was machinery or something soulless that caused such a sound. Everyone listen to see if we can hear it again." All the cells went quiet. The tapping sound repeated itself a second then a third time.

Penelope snapped her fingers but before she could say anything, Bentley announced, "Morse Code!"

"I know this," said Penelope. "The message is getting ready to start over… get ready." Again, quiet returned.

Tapping. More tapping. Finally, Bentley announced, "It's the CIA! I clearly heard C, I and A!"

"Thank _God_," said Eleven. "And not a moment too soon. I was about to kill _all_ of you for your incompetence."

"Crap," murmured Bentley. "The next line was, '_STAND BY_'. It appears they're still formulating a plan."

"Go ahead, Murray," said Penelope with a chuckle.

"So yeah," the hippo announced, "ON THE BRIGHTSIDE, they're here to rescue us."

Penelope smiled inwardly; she was rather satisfied at the way Murray worded himself. She sat down on the floor and began to run a computation on a small pocket calculator. Bentley did something similar, crunching numbers and variables on his own pocket calculator.

"I hope we didn't tip off the other side by announcing all of that," murmured Erik. The area grew silent.

* * *

**"How ya feeling?"** Sly's voice was lacking of its normal playfulness.

Carmelita's eyes lifted and, with a weary smile, she said, "Like I have a touch of the flu. That means I'm most likely contagious and, whether or not Clockwerk thought this out… you might get whatever I have. I thought it wasn't supposed to kick in right away but… so long as it doesn't get any worse than this, I'll be fine."

"You're running a fever and your nose is dry," he replied with a frown. "You're dehydrated. I bought you some water so drink as much as you can."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Clockwerk gave me the common cold to try and scare me."

"What about me?" Sly asked with a chuckle. "I might not be so lucky – after all, I'm supposed to be his enemy. I killed him several times. Then again, so did you but stomping on his CPU."

"He's over the top, this time… biological warfare? If this turns out to be more than just a cold…"

"Can you fly?"

She nodded her head. "I slept for a while and I'm feeling better now. What's the score?"

"Everything is the same as before, we just have less time and when the sun goes down in a little while, we'll be all set to get out of here. Do you think we have enough fuel?"

She offered a lame glare. "Extended fuel tank, remember? Just because I _knew_ it would be a problem trying to get out to Kane Island at a moment's notice if it ever became necessary… so yes, I'm glad I prepared and yes, I'm glad we'll be able to make use of this fighter plane. The only problem is… we'll need to find Bentley so we can modify it with weapons if we want to try and use it to take down Clockwerk."

Cooper placed a paw behind his head, rubbing at the nape of his neck then he offered her a shrug and a goofy sort of grin. "Even in this crappy, smaller body… I saw fighters all over Paris. They were fully engaged with Clockwerk and not one of those pilots could shoot him down. Those pilots are far more experienced than ourselves."

With a soft grunt, the vixen sat up then stretched gingerly. She shook her head and shrugged. "They used tried and true weapons and weapon system platforms. They were up against a bogy that was very small and difficult to track. Clockwerk also has that Soliton Laser. We know what we're up against. Bentley's weapon upgrades will be far from legal so our best bet is to engage Clockwerk somewhere that isn't populated."

"I have a better idea," Sly mused with a slow shake of his head. "We commandeer this Zenith… Zeus… Cannon satellite. We have Bentley hack in and take control then write a program to control it… and we strike Clockwerk down over an unpopulated area… not an ocean, because I don't want another incident like a few years ago where his parts scattered to the winds. I want to know I don't have to scour the bottom of the ocean to make sure I've got every last part of whatever is left."

"Then we'd better hurry before he gets that other damn body back."

Sly's upper lip curled into a sneer. "Let him… bigger targets are easier to hit. He's going to be a miserable machine when I'm done with him."

"In order to gain control of that satellite, you're going to need Bentley and, quite possibly, one of those CIA people to help. It probably won't be easy."

"We'll start by visiting the guys who think they have control of my island. I want you to make your way out to the small island across the way, where Clockwerk managed to stash our jet. He's awfully helpful when he wants our aid, huh?"

Carmelita frowned. "What're you going to do?"

"I'm off to get information, since the men on this island apparently have my future satellite under their control. At least according to Saundra Moore." Sly helped her up and kissed her softly on her dry nose. "I'm crazy about you, girl." He offered her a soft smile then said, "I wish I was as good as my grandfather, Otto, but… after a little while of tinkering… I got the pull-start motor to work on a utility boat left behind by one of Doctor M's maintenance people. The current is in your favor right now and changes at sundown… so, unfortunately, I'll have to cover you while you make your way across."

She glared in reply. "And what about you? How're you getting over there?"

"Jet Ski." Sly smiled. "I found some of those, too. They're noisy and attract way more attention, even though they're smaller. The boat, you can run it at a low speed and get over there quick without making too much noise. The Jet Ski works, too. Don't worry; I'm smart enough to have tried it out. I did a lot while you were asleep."

"Enjoy yourself," she murmured between sniffles. "I need some vitamin C to help naturally fight this crap. I'm going to try and take another nap when I get over there. I'm sure I'll need the rest before we go… speaking of that, where are we going, anyhow?"

"Your choice… We can do Hawaii if you like… but I think we should head to Japan, up to Korea, across Russia and down to the Czech Republic. It's a corrupt area and all we'll have to do is bribe our way through the area for fuel and whatever else we'll need."

"Bribe with what? You've not been in the vault."

Sly offered a dubious look. "I'm not a neophyte; I made a little pit stop utilizing Bentley's backdoor entrance. It was… nice… to try out the laser sliding technique again after all these years. The loot is in the boat, ready for you to cross over to the other side. Figure out how to stow it on the jet by the time I get back… I plan on taking my time because we can't fly out of here until the sun is down… I don't want to become a target, after all."

A smile tugged at Carmelita's weary lips. "Thank god, you're actually thinking for once." She leaned in, kissed the side of his face then walked down to the beach. When she got to the boat, her eyes widened and she glanced over her shoulder but… Sly was already gone. She blinked then looked back at the contents of the boat and murmured under her breath. "Holy smokes." She knew the internal weapons storage area inside the F-35 was fairly spacious but she wasn't quite sure how she'd make it all fit…

* * *

**Something wasn't right.** Sly Cooper's eyebrows furrowed, creating crease lines in his forehead. He hung, inverted, from a rope suspended from the ceiling of the warehouse, once owned by Doctor M. He watched, from above, as a group of men were gathered around a table, holding a conference.

"What happened to the girl?" asked the one on the left. "I heard she was handcuffed to a tree – that means she isn't the only one here… the fact she escaped from that, only to elude _us_ has me curious. But the recon photos I saw made me wonder… she didn't look like a weasel at one angle… the jaw line of her muzzle was …different. She was too blocky."

"Somewhat like a squirrel," agreed the man across the table. "But yes, she's still on this island. I've got men out looking for her now. They'll find and kill her – not to worry."

"No," said a third man. "Didn't you guys read the report? Manny's team cornered her. Seven men, two sergeants and Manny, himself, surrounded her. She broke nine necks and Manny was found with a bullet through his left eye – it appears the gunshot was from ten yards away, using _his_ service pistol. Whoever this chick is, weasel, squirrel, whatever… she's trained. No one snaps necks like that – no one dispatches all those men all at once; most of them still had full magazines in their weapons. They hardly got off a shot."

"…Jesus," murmured a fourth man. "I'd not seen that report. Manny is dead, huh? This is serious. His cousin, Jasper Cunningham, is going to have a fit… a damned fit. He's going to be royally pissed."

"Shut up, Mike," said the first man. "She's well trained and, for now on, no one approaches her if she's spotted. We need to get her from a distance. Step up sniper patrols as of midnight."

"Why that late?"

"Let her think she's still undetected," said the first man. "If we react to it right away, she'll notice. Let her think that midnight is a shift change; she'll notice the increased security but I don't want her thinking it's because we know she's here. So our recon people weren't seen by her?"

"I'm sure of it," said the third man. "Who is she? CIA or something? FBI maybe?"

The first man rubbed his chin. "You've got a point. She could be in here and out before midnight, and quick to report back to her superiors. Dammit. Okay, open up the ranks – we have an official manhunt. Use weapons that she won't survive. I want you to pull out snipers, mortar fire outside the main perimeter, and thermal scan sweeps to ensure that she's dead quickly."

All four men stood up, their conversation concluded. Sly Cooper dropped from the rope to the table, causing all four legs to break. It dropped to the floor and he surfed it gracefully, staying upon his feet. "Sorry to cut in guys, but anyone who plans on killing someone on _my_ property is hereby banned. It's my island, after all, so I'm exercising my right to…" The men started to advance, going for their sidearm.

Cooper pivoted, spinning about with his cane. It struck all four men in their faces, knocking them to the ground. "I'm exercising my right to ban your tails, guys." He quickly disarmed each man with his cane until all four pistols were hanging by their trigger guards from his hook. He then shifted, arched a bit then slung them, two at a time, across the room.

"Get him!" shouted one of the men. Sly wasn't sure which one spoke.

With a grunt, he snagged his cane into the shirt of one man, lifted and slung him into the man on the other side. He then thrusted his cane to the left, striking another man and kicked his heel to the right, stepping on the throat of a man on his right.

With the other three fully unconscious now, Sly leaned down to the man who struggled under his foot. Cooper smiled broadly. "You said she was either a weasel or a squirrel. Those are two very, very different species. Which was it, bud?"

"I can't be sure!" he shouted, reaching for Cooper's ankle to relieve the pressure against his throat. He gurgled, unable to swallow or gasp for air.

"That's even better," said Cooper. He lifted his cane and used the base, slamming it down on the man's forehead. A puff of smoke billowed out from his cane. Having forgotten he'd kept the smoke charge in the tip, Sly laughed to himself softly then knelt, only to spring back up into the air. He grasped the rope hanging from the ceiling and began to climb up into the rafters. He murmured to himself with a sigh. "If he wasn't sure… I'm willing to make a bet…"

Sly began walking along the narrow rafter gracefully. His body hunched and arched like a graceful dancer, remaining silent. He brought his cane up and twirled it off his right paw while bringing his left one up to his ear. He touched a button and said, "Redial last caller." A few seconds later, the earpiece played a tone, followed by a feminine voice.

A grin touched the raccoon's muzzle. "Don't think you can call my bluff, Saundra… you're here and you're local… and you're dressed to look like that assassin who tried to kill me in Prague. Or, rather… who tried to subdue me and fake my death… so, where are you?"

A pause, then, "You're good. Better than I gave you credit for. I'm not sure how you knew or if you saw me… but I'm impressed. I'm in the main headquarters building. These guys are bigger than I gave them credit for… this is serious, kid."

Sly smirked. "Kid, huh? From what I'm seeing on my end, these guys are total amateurs. They're all worried because you apparently ripped a group of ten men to shreds. With the quickness. I remember you saying you preferred neck snapping, back at the Langley location…"

"I was seen…? How did you find out that I killed those men? No one was around."

Cooper rolled his eyes. "You're good but they have recon people that reported in."

"I told you, these people are far more professional than I gave them credit for – they are, in fact, in control of the Zeus Cannon like I thought… but according to what I've learned… we can't gain control of it by the men who are here… The ONLY thing you have going for you… is the fact that they haven't yet realized that you've retrieved your cane, or that you're even here. Look, I'll meet you out by your toy plane. You'd BETTER have enough fuel to get us out of here, I mean it. Listen, Sly, I have my work cut out for me. Just get me somewhere like Pearl Harbor and I'll catch a ride home to Langley. I'm in over my head, here."

"Where are you headed, once you gear up at Langley?"

She sighed over the line. "Prague, Moscow again, and… it's complicated."

Sly frowned, thoughtfully. He eased out through a vent, leading to the rooftop. "I don't like the sound of that. So why are you _really_ going to Langley?"

"It sounds to me like you've already figured it out. Just drop me off at Pearl."

"We're not going that way. If you want to go to Hawaii, you'll have to find your own way. We have limited space and limited time. I'm headed to Prague to get Clockwerk's body. Carmelita may not have long."

"She doesn't have a God damned Virus!" shouted Saundra Moore. "She has Acute viral rhinopharyngitis – acute coryza. I'm not so sure about you but we can get you tested if you want. Clockwerk, as a computer, is fairly good at playing head games. It sure as hell was about to make _you_ run around the world for him! Leave your team to AJ and Cleo. If you want to 'save the world' you can help me get back control of the Z. Cannon Satellite."

"I'd rather make sure Carmelita's not going to die. If I die, that's bad… if Carmelita dies… I'm going to…"

"God I wish I could grab you by your ear right now. I'll meet you over there with your plane. We're headed to Pearl Harbor, where we can put Carmleita in a hospital. After that, I want to go to Virginia. If you help me, I'll make it worth your while."

"Yeah, like last time."

"You didn't follow the rules, last time," she replied in a sharp tone. "Carmelita found out everything, you got caught and…"

"She didn't file a report. She was a good girl and your secrets were safe."

"She hasn't filed a report yet – she's been with you. So it remains to be seen. If nothing goes public, then everyone will get offered those jobs."

"And if it winds up on a small internet website like '_Disinfo dot com_?' What then?"

She sighed with a groan. "Cleopatra posted it, huh?"

"You really should have a talk with your sister," said Sly. "I'll meet you over by the jet. If you try anything sneaky, you'll have a serious problem."

"Sneaky? I kill people, you twit. I don't beat around the bush, there is no 'sneaky'. I don't TRY anything. If I wanted you and an International cop to be dead… and create a lot of heat and attention for the agency… it would have happened when I first met you, or when I spoke to Carmelita on the bus minutes before she defied my advice by going into that building in Paris the other day. Seriously, you two… I'll met you there – stop being so stubborn." The line ended.

Cooper rubbed his left temple with a sigh then leapt from the roof, headed east.

* * *

_Hours later…_

**Sly paced in front of Carmelita's hospital bed.** He shook his head with a sigh, gazing at the chart in his left paw. "I can't believe she was right." He read over the page on the clipboard a second time. He was relieved to see that the tests showed only a simple common cold virus but he couldn't understand why he wasn't feeling symptoms like Carmelita. He attached the chart back on her bed and sat down adjacent to her.

"Hey," she murmured.

Sly smiled brightly. "You're awake!" He leaned in and kissed the side of her face. "Aren't you glad you didn't have to pilot us to Hawaii? Saundra turned out to be quite a capable pilot, huh?"

Carmelita's voice was weak but her smile was soft and genuine. "You were just happy because I had to sit in your lap for over an hour."

"Yeah, I did like that. I won't lie." He grinned then said, "You slept like a baby, considering the pressure on our chest from the flight. I'm not sure how you can sleep through that sort of thing."

"So… why did we go to Hawaii? I thought we had to meet with Clockwerk to receive the cure to our death sentence?"

A shrug of his shoulders then he offered her a smile and said, "I love you. And you have the "Rhotovirus," as do I. The common cold. They've run extensive research – they even quarantined us when we first arrived and you slept right through it. We were both subjected to testing… and about four hours later… they came back to us and released us from the quarantine ward. Saundra was in there, too, because she was with us in the cockpit for so long. Anyhow, she's clean… I'm fighting it and you're sick as a…"

"Don't you _dare_ say 'dog'," she murmured then grinned at him. "You have a good immunity system, then, Sly. The reason I was so weak is because I'd already given up hope of getting a cure. I was letting it get the best of me, emotionally…" She lifted her gaze back to him then sighed with a frown. "And I've got my period, so," she paused, glanced around then continued. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm heavy right now… and I think that, combined with all the crap I've been through in Paris the other day… it's starting to catch up with me. All of that, on top of worrying about _you_ has me down and out right now." She frowned with a sigh. "I'm sorry, I feel like I let you down. I'm sick as crap. What's going on with Saundra – how'd she even get on that island, anyhow?"

"You cuffed her to a tree. She underestimated you and you caught her with a really solid kick. She told me, on the way home, that she respects you for getting one up on her – that hasn't happened in ages, she said." Sly took her paw into his hand and smiled. "I've never seen you down and out before. It's kinda' cute. You look like you actually need me around for once. I like it."

She scowled at him. "You're _lucky_ I love you."

A new voice joined the couple. "You kids are _both_ lucky. If Clockwerk made good on his word, you'd both be dead or dying. I have a feeling he was simply unable to get a hold of the virus he threatened to give you."

"Only one was a 'virus'," said Sly. "But I understand what you're saying. The other thing was some sort of inert doom and gloom bug. I don't even remember what he'd called it. Anyhow, you kids are lucky. Now… I need you both. I usually don't work with cops because they report everything like good little drones …but Carmelita has work-resources that will allow her to have access to computer programs necessary to finish our mission."

Fox lifted her gaze and leaned up from her pillow. "What's your mission?"

"Our mission – I require you, too." Saundra settled on the edge of the mattress, patting Carmelita's knee. "Y'see, super vix, some of these groups are working together. Hell, I didn't know it until rather recently… I found out on Kane Island, actually. It's a little disconcerting, actually… AJ and Cleopatra working together? AJ has no idea why she'd even help him or want his help… It's very fine-line confusing."

"Try us," said Sly.

Saundra frowned. "It turns out that the CIA has aligned with the asshat out in the Atlantic Ocean. It is equally disconcerting that they're working with a group in Moscow. It's headed by this guy named Jasper. I can't even begin to get the bead on him, because I'm not in a facility that has the computers necessary to look up information about him. Finally, there's a group in nowheres-ville that has employed Cleopatra. She pretends to work out of Germany but she doesn't.

"Anyway, the group from Moscow, the CIA and the idiots out in the ocean… they're all working together. They're trying to obtain the Z. Cannon satellite from a group of people who has locked out its controls so that it can't be used by any one side. Stay with me, this is where it gets weird… The CIA, the group from Moscow… they each have half the mainframe code necessary to hack in and get the satellite. This keeps the other side from having it, and even though they're all allies, the moron down in the ocean wants it, too. Right now, everyone is vying for control of it. The United States could easily just shoot it down but they'd rather be using it to their advantage. Right now, no one is using it. So there's tensions among these allies but… they're all working together with the guy under water. I'm going to steal both codes, shoot down that moron, Clockwerk, before he finds out about it and destroys it, personally… then we'll have NO WAY to stop him. In the end, I have my work cut out for me."

Carmelita frowned. "You've got to go to Moscow and steal information?"

Sly blinked. "You've got to go to Langley and break into the CIA and steal the other half of the same information? You work there, why don't you just walk in the front door like you have a million times, and steal it?"

"I'm officially 'off duty'. I'm, for some reason, being placed on a list that keeps me out of work until further notice. I've been operating outside of my legal parameters for a few days, now. I got too close and now I know too much so I'm being monitored. AJ, too. He doesn't even REALIZE his enemy is the CIA, the poor bastard. He's a gorgeous man but sometimes he doesn't attempt to see the bigger picture. It's like… James Bond without 'M' helping to show him what to do or 'Q' giving him gadgets. He sits there and scratches his head, wondering what to do next."

Carmelita dropped her head back into her pillow with a groan. "You're right… it _is_ complicated… not because it's hard to follow… but because you're a CIA operative… who needs OUR help breaking into the CIA to STEAL codes. How do I fit into helping you?"

"Miss Fox, you have access to equipment and gear. You're still official. You were about to be put on 'vacation' by your superiors… but those people were killed because, yes, _French Intelligence_ is in on this too… whomever that guy is out in the ocean, he has _very_ deep pockets. However, France doesn't have any part of that code. Either way, Interpol was ordered to put you somewhere quiet for a while… but the men who were ordered to do so… they're all dead. It's assumed that you may be dead, too. I'm not sure. Did you have any problems in Lyon when you visited there before heading to Prague?"

Carmelita shook her head. In reply, the squirrel patted Carmelita's leg again. "Swell. I didn't think so… only your direct superiors in Paris were notified to take you out back and metaphorically shoot you… your career, rather. Anyhow, you're still official at Interpol and around the rest of the world. You have ties to equipment and gear. Your precinct manager, Chief Barkley, is one of the good guys, so to speak. He's not able to help us… but he won't hinder us either… and if you get yourself into a little bit of trouble, you can count on that guy to bail you out, Fox. He's one of the few people you should trust, right now. Humorously enough, AJ and I broke into his house the other night to put a tracking device on Sly's cane."

"Why…?" Sly rubbed the sides of his head with a sigh.

"Because," said Carmelita, answering for Saundra. "She was ordered to do it. Somehow, it was her first clue that things weren't right. It was tracked so that when it gets restolen, it could be sent to Kane Island where the forces there would have taken it and used it to get the artifact from the vault. Saundra knew that AJ, who is apparently terminal, would do as he's told without naively reporting to the CIA if he thought that Saundra was in danger… so Cleopatra stepped in and helped take over while Saundra tailed the thief who took the cane next… she followed it to Kane Island directly to see what it was going to be used for, because, at the time, she didn't know everything yet. It didn't unfold until she was already ON Kane Island."

The vixen lifted her eyes again, noting that Saundra's facial expression belayed the fact that the squirrel was impressed. Carmelita continued. "The only things I can't understand is why the forces on Kane still didn't know that Sly got his cane back if it was being tracked …and why it was being tracked in the first place."

Saundra grinned rather suddenly. "Before helping Sly to find it so he could steal it back, I snuck in, removed the tracking device and placed it in a secure location on the island. They probably _still_ think it's there. I disguised myself as one of the guards in order to get close… extra body armor gave me the chubby masculine appearance I needed in order to succeed. Finally, the reason they did that is because they EXPECTED for someone to come along and make a grab for it. Also, they did it so that all three sides would KNOW where the cane was, and that it was about to be used on the island… think of it as an electronic receipt. The guy under the ocean requested it, actually. It was just his way of having some measure of control on the situation. They have no clue it's gone, yet. I'm proud of myself, I'll admit. Then I gussied up as the weasel girl because _she_ is working for the side of the CIA that kicked AJ and myself into 'vacation' status. I don't trust her. Surprisingly, the forces still out on Kane didn't react to her the way I thought they would."

"Which is how?"

She shrugged at Sly. "I thought I'd walk onto the island and they would _tell_ me what's going on. Her first order was to put Sly into a medically induced coma so he would be unable to steal his cane back from Kane Island. She failed… second time in her entire nine-year career. She's got an otherwise flawless record. So…" She turned to Cooper and nodded. "Congratulations. Anyhow, she's in Prague, right now, to "rescue" the Cooper gang."

"If she's not on our side, we should help them!"

Again, she shrugged at Cooper then shook her head. "She's ordered to keep them alive, so leave it be. However, her mission is to ensure that the Cooper gang doesn't stumble onto what I've told you… and get the keys to the satellite for themselves… Bentley and the rest of the gang… you guys are capable of it. She's there to make sure your gang stays in the dark and helpless. She's faking capture while Cleo and AJ rescue your gang… Cleo was ordered by _me_ to do anything she wants with Eleven… AJ doesn't want anything to happen to Eleven because he's got no clue what's going on yet. Also, I don't think he's slept with her yet… so he's probably treating her with kid gloves." She huffed, rubbed her forehead then said, "That man is a whore, I swear. Anyhow, aside from spreading his seed all over the intelligence community, he's got a code of honor, so I pulled him into this unknowingly. I spoke to my husband and now… we're off to the CIA to break in and steal the information we need. It's not going to be easy."

"I'm sure," said Sly. "When do we do it?"

"I've arranged a ride from Pearl back to DC. We leave in the morning. Carmelita, I know you're feeling rough… but you're not going to die. Are you ready to come with us?"

"Yeah, I just need a decongestant and some vitamin C pills." She sat up slowly and ran her fingers back through her hair. "Normally I wouldn't want ANYONE stealing from a government entity but… the corruption involved is over the top. We'll need to make a few pit stops if it's okay. Remember the Stealth Suit?"

"The one I wore to the Atlantis Dome?" asked Sly.

"And the one I wore to the CIA," said Carmelita with a smirk. She turned to Saundra and said, "Sly and I already broke in once, last week. It was a cake job, by the way. Anyhow…" She leaned back a bit and said, "we'll get those and use them to great effect. Besides, I look good in a sneaking suit."

"Initially," started Moore, "I was going to have you tag along as our radio operator to keep your sick-ass tail out of the field. But if you have access to a stealth suit… and you're taller than me. I could force myself into it, but it's tailor fitted to your thighs, crotch, rump and hips, not to mention your torso and shoulders… all my faking of looking like someone else is done by clothing selection… Anyhow… I'm surprised… so you're on the team." She turned to Sly and asked, "Any requests?"

"Yeah." He smiled inwardly. "I want to put the Cooper clan logo on Carmelita's suit and equipment."

"Sly that's stupid."

Saundra placed a palm on Carmelita's knee. "No. It's brilliant. If someone sees us, you will be mistaken for a Cooper clan member. It won't hurt your career or draw attention to Interpol. I want his logo on all your gear, your shock pistol, your utility belt… everything. What color is your suit?"

"Burgundy – it looks like a cat burglar costume." She smirked at Sly. "If your logo goes on my gear, I want it to match my suit."

"Actually, we'll need to cover your face, too," said Saundra. "I want you to find a black face mask. Get a matching red cap to cover your forehead because surveillance cameras use geometrics to determine your identity. We'll modify your stealth suit so that it looks more like an outfit, just in case you're seen – I don't want the suit to be recognized. We'll make the top look more like a jacket by adding a collar – you can flip it up so it covers your neck and part of your jaw line… again… geometrics. Finally, you'll want to get yourself a small cane with a Cooper style hook on it. We'll attach it to the front of your outfit the way you might mount a combat knife's sheath to your torso. I don't want them to think you're anything other than a Cooper guild member if you're seen. Don't worry… I can already picture the outfit in my head, it'll look super cute."

Carmelita rolled her eyes, glancing at Sly. "A face mask?"

"Geometrics, sweetheart. You were quite fetching in that attire, last time I saw it. I'm already excited to see you in it again."

"Mmm hmm." She laid back into the hospital bed once more. "I'm going to get some sleep. I'll need it." She rolled over, facing away from them and pulled the blanket up over her head.

"When do we do this job?" asked Sly.

"CIA is the day after tomorrow night. Moscow will be the same day – we'll have your jet shipped over seas immediately… that way we can hit both locations back to back before anyone can put up their defenses. Since Carmelita will be in a sneaking suit… something I currently lack… I'll do logistics for you two. After all, she sounded confident about getting into CIA a second time."

Carmelita murmured, facing away from them, from under the blanket. "I am. Now get out of my room, guys. I need to sleep."

Sly patted the vixen's rump and said, "Feel better, future Mrs. Cooper." He leaned over and kissed the blanket, where the side of her head would be. He then stood up and walked across the room, gesturing for Saundra to follow. The squirrel stood up off the bed and fell into step behind him. He murmured softly, "I need to fashion a miniature 'Cooper' hook for her and show her the basics on how to use it. We don't have a lot of time. Are you sure two days is wise? She's still sick and…"

Saundra picked up where he left off, saying, "…And if we wait any longer, Clockwerk will start becoming a menace. He's searching for you right now… Prague, Kane Island… he's out there somewhere trying to find you. Right now, he's lost your scent. You're going to be bouncing around between the states and Russia, so he'll not be able to find you. Also, your team is hidden in Prague, so he won't be able to find them, either… Clockwerk has probably already given up on them by now and is headed to Kane Island to search there… Heh. He's just getting colder and colder on your trail. Okay… let's go down to the cafeteria and get some food."

"Sounds good to me. I'm starving."

"Feed a cold, starve a fever," muttered Carmelita from her place on the bed.

Sly frowned. "Don't worry, sunshine! I'll bring you something back from the cafeteria; try and get some rest."

* * *

A/N: (continued from the author's note up at the top) _…About to break into the CIA headquarters together! As a team! That's right, a team of master criminal thieves! At least that's the sense of misdirection that Carmelita has been ordered to give off in case they're spotted. xD _

_YAY! _


	20. SPY COOPER aka 'CIA heist'

A/N: _Long chapter today! Why? Because I said so! xD Rather… I should say it's a long chapter for Spy Cooper. Yeah, I know, a few of them back in the middle of the story were twelve thousand words, but most were around six or seven thousand. Either way, a lot is left. Breaking into the Lubyanka, and stealing the last part of the code comes next. After that, I have to explain Clockwerk's fate, the CIA officers' fate, Carmen has to be conceived, Sly and Carmelita have to get married, Sly and Carmelita have to melt down the 'Pendant of Fertility" and take the diamond out then take the remaining gold remains and have it turned into a wedding band. Obviously, the next time they conceive, Carmelita will be officially wearing that band… and, thus, as per the way Lament of Carmelita tells it… Carmelita's NEXT conception will be male… IE: Conner. Maybe I'll close this story with the birth of Carmen in the epilogue? How do you guys feel about that? Let me know. _

_Btw, if you google 'Spy Cooper' you learn that they're a popular pair of sunglasses… weird! _

_

* * *

_

Chapter -20-  
"_Spy Cooper_"

_McLean, Virginia  
02:17am_

**"For some reason, I expected a larger house**," murmured Sly. He sat on a bench behind the breakfast bar, wrists draped at an angle across his knees. "And where is your husband?" His eyes were on the window, gazing out through the trees at a distant street lamp, illuminating route 193, Georgetown Pike.

"I have more than one house," said Saundra, rummaging through the cabinets in the kitchen. She lifted her head from behind the counter and said to Carmelita, "The code to the gun safe is ten 'fives' – something easy you don't have to think about in an emergency, right? …It's in the closet behind you." She knelt behind the kitchen counter again, pulling out supplies – none of which were edible.

Carmelita turned away and opened the living room closet. She glanced over her shoulder back into the kitchen then began to punch in the long, obnoxiously simplistic code to the safe. "So where is your other house?"

"Potomac, Maryland. It's quiet; it's nice – he has family near there," she replied in reference to her husband. "It's a lot bigger than this house."

Carmelita opened the gun safe then glanced over her shoulder again. "This house has to be nearly nine _thousand_ square feet…"

Saundra stood up, placing a row of flash suppressers on the counter. "The one in Potomac is in Avenel – two times larger, plus or minus a few hundred square feet. Bring those guns over here – let's make sure we're locked and loaded with non-lethal ammunition."

Sly stood up and stretched. "Yeah, it's way nicer than this place, Carmelita," said Cooper. As he spoke, both girls' eyes gradually widened more and more. "Colonial style, built in '98 in the 20854 zip code. Seven bedrooms, seven full and two half bathrooms, three fireplaces, a garage that could hold three limousines, and ten more cars out front… gated community with a private, equally gated, cul-de-sac. White and gray on the front with several bay windows… it's layered in the front with pillars all around. Best part is… the master bedroom is on the main level."

Saundra glanced over her shoulders then narrowed her eyes at Sly. "Yeah… you _might_ have the right house."

Cooper shrugged. "The master bedroom is twenty-four 'feet' by twenty-four 'feet', square, right? I mean, it's bigger than your twenty-two by twenty-two square kitchen and almost as big as your twenty-six by twenty-eight foot library, which has more paintings on the wall than books on the shelves… it's kind of a converted gallery. Nice pieces, but not a single one of them are originals or worth very much. At least you have a zoned heating system, but I was really impressed with what you guys did to the basement."

Moore lifted a paw, eyes still narrow; she attempted to keep her temper in check. "Enough. You're lucky you didn't trip the alarm or he would have killed you. He's not a Master Chief in the Marine Corps because he's a push over… you wouldn't have lived." By now her teeth were grinding together.

Sly waved a dismissing paw with a vibrant smile. "I just had to check out the people that were in a position to make my life complicated. The lot acreage was a little lacking though… barely an acre? I mean, seriously. I have my own mountain."

"Sly!" Carmelita narrowed her gaze at him.

"What? I've not even started building the place yet. You know the one right?"

The vixen flitted her tail in annoyance. "Yes, I do. I know exactly where, too."

"It's beautiful, don't you think? I wanted to have a place built there so we could raise a family." He waggled his brows with an inviting smile. He came through the kitchen, around the island counter, and into the carpeted area of the living room then came alongside of Fox. "I'd like to concentrate on the future after all of this crap blows over." He took some of the weapons from her and helped in carrying them back to the kitchen then said, "Miss Moore, you have a lovely home, here in Langley. You've got an equally lovely home up north, in Potomac. Regardless, I have to laugh about your comment concerning the alarm system. If it were good enough to catch me, I wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. You wouldn't have contacted me for my help if I weren't the best Master Thief in the CIA's book. Seriously – I'm far from _lucky_. If luck was a factor, it would have run out by now, I'm sure."

Carmelita furrowed her brows and blinked. "That was an awfully egotistical thing to say, Sly."

Moore relaxed, coming to the realization that she'd done the same thing on multiple occasions to others. Coming to understand his intent brought her some measure of relief. "No, he's right," said the squirrel with a frown. "If he can break into the Louvre, go through the Sully Wing, down to the Egyptian department and steal something, then get down into the near-collapsed sections of the medieval Louvre then back out without being caught… then I'm impressed. He did it and took over an hour, dillydallying just for fun. The only reason I know is because we were tailing him to see if he was worth our time."

The raccoon offered a shrug. "I wanted to see if Philip II's 12th century fortress, or the remnants of the palace were still accessible through the crypt. It's cool as hell down there, that's for sure. Lots of stuff happened at that place between Philip the Second's time there and the tenth of August 1793 – when they opened it as an official museum. I was just having fun, exploring… I like that kind of stuff on occasion. Museums are full of neat things." He posed in a sangfroid demeanor. "It makes me feel… cultured!" He preened in a masculine sort of way.

Carmelita gritted her teeth together and, after a moment, asked, "I'm not going to ask about the details, especially since you never got caught and since this is hearsay from an agency across the 'pond' – I only go on cold hard facts, here… but when and what?"

He turned his head, facing her. "A family heirloom – a broach-thing that belonged to Slytankhamen the _Third_, and… less than a month before seeing you in Italy, when I helped you and your men take down Don Octavio." He placed some of the guns down on the counter and Carmelita placed the rest in a pile adjacent to his. "Then I went exploring because a good deal of the crypts beneath the Louvre are sealed off to public guests. Like I said, there's a lot of cool stuff down there."

With a reluctant sigh, Carmelita walked away and snatched the burgundy clothing from the sofa. She dropped down into the cushions with a frumpy expression upon her muzzle. She then began toying with the recent stitch job where the top of the cat suit had been altered to resemble an actual outfit instead of the stealth suit that it originally once was. "You're a dick – I can't believe I'm about to go out stealing stuff with you, tonight."

"Just forget about it," said Saundra with a roll of the eyes. "I'll go with him. Your profile was right – you're too honest and you can't do anything wrong, illegal or immoral, even though a lot more is at stake than you realize. I mean… the world will end the day that international antagonists find every last loophole in the justice systems around the globe, unless of course those systems adapt. But if they don't, people like you will stand by idly and let it happen because they're abiding by the law to get everything they've ever wanted so… not tonight. You can just stay here, Miss Fox."

A sneer tugged at the top lip of the vixen's muzzle. Her teeth were clinched together. "I _didn't_ say I _wouldn't_ help. I said what I said to guilt trip him. That information doesn't belong in the hands of anyone because that satellite is illegal. It's supposed to be part of the retired Star Wars defense program and, theoretically, it's supposed to be facing _away_ from the planet. Also, since it's registered as a weapon, the United States should have published information on it because it's in technically neutral airspace."

The raccoon reached across the kitchen island counter and placed his palm atop of Saundra's knuckles. "Just let her work with me. We're a team; Carmelita and I have done great things together. Don't change your mind now – let's stick to the plan."

"Whatever, kids. Just get your crap together." She began disassembling each of the guns one at a time. "Both of you are going to be breaking the law, tonight. So am I. All three of us are criminals, this evening. Consider it acting, Miss Fox. Furthermore, you should be applying the Cooper clan logos to your equipment. Get it done, you two."

Carmelita huffed. "I know what has to be done." She drew out her shock pistol and a nail file. With a pained sigh, she began sanding off the golden star on the side of the weapon. She cut her gaze up at Saundra who appeared busy. Under her breath, she murmured the word, "bitch."

She continued filing. The golden star slowly faded from the side of the pistol, leaving only the original coloration of the weapon in its place. It felt sacrilegious to do it but before long, the left side of the weapon was barren of the old logo. She flipped the weapon over and began on the other decal, filing furiously at the paint job.

Saundra tightened her jaw somewhat, looking up at Carmelita's actions. In a softer voice, she said, "If it makes you feel any better… while you're over there filing a star off of your gun… there's a very good chance that I'll wind up _as a star_ carved into a wall by some guy named Tim Johnston."

"What're you talking about?" asked Fox.

The squirrel shrugged, lowering her gaze back to the weapons in her paws. "Harold Vogel's wall of shame." She spoke in a softer tone, somewhat reverently and somewhat with disgust. "The Memorial Wall, it's on the north wall of the OHB lobby." She paused, realizing they might not understand the term. "Thee, ah, Old Headquarters Building, built by Allen Dulles back in the '50s." She half-shrugged, as if simply flinching her right shoulder. "Anyway… if you're lucky, you get your name put in the book in the glass case… but a good portion of people get a page with a golden star and no name – their death has to remain a secret forever." She licked her lips in apprehension, pursed her lips together for a moment then continued. "Getting shot in a place like that would grant _no stars_, though… because it would be seen as an act of treason." She swallowed back the emotion welling up inside of her then brought a fist down on the counter. The gear jumped. She lifted her eyes to them, tightened her jaw then, in a firmer voice, said, "But I have to do what I have to do and I my only regret…" she trailed off for a fraction of a moment, cleared her throat and told them, "my _only_ god damn regret is that I have but _one_ life to lose for my country. Believe me, if I could do it more than once, I'd do it without skipping a beat. So if this has to happen then I have to make it count."

A nod from the vulpine cop. "The last words of Nathan Hale, executed by William Richmond, and the British General William Howe on September 22nd 1776 in Queens, New York." She paused and pondered Saundra's morbid foreshadowing. "So… why do it?" asked the inspector with a tilt of her head.

Saundra sighed and nodded, beginning to work on the gear again. She shook her head slowly, saying, "You love memorizing every last detail about everything you possibly can, don't you? From profiles to historical information about criminal profiles." Saundra's eyes flitted up then lowered again. "I'm doing it because a true officer serves their country _before_ serving their employer."

Cooper tilted his head. "But how do you _know_ what the right thing to do really is, Miss Moore?"

"Just… call me Saundra. It's like the CIA's motto goes… New Testament – John eight, thirty-two: _And ye Shall Know the Truth and the Truth Shall Make you Free_. See, I've come across the intelligence to know exactly what is right and wrong, here. Okay, less talking and more working. We've got to be prepared, tonight."

The room grew quiet. Saundra began tinkering again while Carmelita continued to file. Sly left the room to retrieve the new logo decals.

* * *

_An hour later…  
The George HW Bush Center for Intelligence…_

**Cooper gazed over the dark, silent, nearly empty parking lot, **which stretched out as far as the eye could see. "I've seen smaller lots at big malls," he murmured, mostly to himself.

Moore rolled her eyes. "There's a much smaller lot out back, near the entrance of the OHB entrance. It's across from the Bubble… look… Sly… just… shut up for right now, okay?"

He backed up, standing besides Carmelita, while the couple watched Moore work on the emergency exit door at the side of the building. Cooper paced for a moment then paused to look across the way. "Is that a Blackbird?" he asked softly.

Carmelita nodded. "A-12 prototype." She glanced back at Moore and, in a stern voice, asked, "Won't they see an emergency exit door opening on a computer somewhere?"

Saundra turned her head back and glared with daggers in her eyes. "I planned this out since around the time I first met with Mister Cooper – make no mistake, Inspector Fox, I've disabled the sensor that was placed on this door quite some time ago. It's only _now_ that I'm able to make use of this back-way in. There are more guards and night owls working than I would have liked… but it's a chance we have to take. Thankfully, it's Sunday morning… Personnel attendance is at a minimum… but… it's still more than I'd have liked. Now… I've answered all your silly questions… I've catered to all of your little one-liners… can we shut up, now, please? I'm not trying to _die_ tonight – we still have Moscow left – we strike in a few hours. With the added time difference, I'm hoping to hit them the second the sun goes down over eastern Russia. Now… hush."

She began toying with the emergency exit door again, leaving Sly to pace again and, after a moment, Carmelita slugging him for it. He feigned a faux wince then re-approached Saundra. "So how does AJ fit into this?"

"He'll do what the Moore sisters tell him to do because we can be very…" she trailed off then smiled at the recent memory of his embrace. "…Convincing," she murmured, working on a panel of wires. "He's not a drunk like Aldrich Ames, and regardless of that moron… these are different times – but he's certainly as _clumsy as_ Ames and, therefore, internally controllable."

"I thought Jacob White was a top dog?" whispered Cooper.

"The CIA may miss the latest detonation of a nuclear blast by India, or mistake the Chinese embassy for a munitions warehouse in downtown Belgrade, but it is alert to the fall of a paper clip in the office of the Director of Central Intelligence. The 'hallway truth' around the office was that in the clandestine service, the formula for advancement had become "screw up and move up." So, to them, AJ is a god amongst men. However, he's a good field agent. He does what he's told and he doesn't get caught or captured easily. Trust me, it took some effort on my part to ensure that he'd get 'captured' …in this case – by Cleopatra. Now shut the hell up so I can think." She began working to splice a set of wires. Conversation came to a stop.

She fidgeted in the panel then carefully replaced the top. The door didn't open. Carmelita opened her mouth to say something but Saundra immediately lifted her paw to keep the other woman quiet. After several seconds, Saundra brought her paw towards the door much in the way Vanna White displayed a newly glowing letter block on a game show wall. The door swished open electronically. She quickly reached for Sly and Carmelita's wrists and pulled them through then stopped just inside the doorway.

The door abruptly swished shut. It hummed softly as an electronic locking mechanism reengaged and resupplied power to the fire-escape alarm bar, which would only sound if it were to be reopened from the inside.

She released their wrists and hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "First thing's first. We're headed to the Directorate of Operations. The DO is the center of CIA's spying activities. For this mission, we'll be walking through the area like we belong there." She un-shouldered a knapsack and handed out CIA sweatpants, a shirt and a ball cap to each 'thief'. "These were purchased at the souvenir store down at the other end of the building. They're baggy; put them on overtop of your clothes. We'll be going by my office and, even though there are very few people here at this hour, I want it to look like I'm bringing in two spy recruits. From my office, I'll disable the firewall on another computer then, from that one, I'll change the password and firewall of another one. From that computer, I plan on installing a program algorithm that will create a temporary feedback loop in the surveillance. That gives us a window to get into the restricted zone – our mission objective area. Unfortunately, I can't reuse the same tactic...

"For one, I won't be at a computer with that sort of access while down in the basement. Secondly, a pattern in the system logs won't appear as a _glitch_ if it happens twice in a row. It won't matter anyhow, though… When we're leaving, we'll be in such a hurry that we'll be attracting _lots_ of attention."

"So why would Moscow still have _their_ defenses down tonight?" asked Sly, pulling the sweatpants up over his shoes and stealth suit pants. "I thought all these factions are working together – wouldn't the CIA warn Moscow that half the codes were stolen?"

Saundra balked. "The FBI and CIA hardly cooperate – what makes you think the CIA will tell ANYONE about this right away? If we can get to Russia in the same day… we'll be fine."

Carmelita replaced her red cap with the dark colored one, passing the burgundy cover and her eye mask to Saundra. "If we're masquerading as recruits, why did we come here in stealth, break in, _then_ change clothes?"

"So you wouldn't have to check in and register at the gates," replied Moore. "So that I'm a minor suspect, not a major one. Everyone who is on duty tonight will be investigated by the FBI _before_ they start talking to people like _me_, last seen in Hawaii as recently as _yesterday_."

"Maybe we should stop by there on the way to Russia," murmured Sly. "I mean, it's out of the way but it sorta' creates misdirection."

Saundra nodded. "I am. I won't be going to Moscow with you two. I'll be your logistical officer all the way from Pearl Harbor. That way, there's less likely of a chance that I'll be implicated in any of this. By the time I'm caught, it'll be too late – we'll have successfully handled our business. Clockwerk will be in pieces at our discretion and then the real fun starts." She stuffed the burgundy hat into her knapsack then took the blue one from Sly, including his mask. She was unsurprised to see that it was the same coloration as the natural dark-fur markings that raccoons were known for.

He tugged the white t-shirt down over his body; it was baggy, helping to hide his clothes, beneath. "What's the _real fun_? Taking down the satellite without American government approval?"

"Ever seen 'Moonraker' with Roger Moore? No relation, by the way." Saundra smiled inwardly at her own joke.

Carmelita's brows furrowed, scrunching up the fur of her forehead from the way her hair was pulled back. "You want us to steal a space shuttle, fly it up there unnoticed by NASA – let alone the rest of the world, let alone children with telescopes – and space walk our way around the satellite, sabotaging it? Why can't we just hijack a stealth missile and blow it up?"

"Actually," said Moore, re-shouldering the knapsack, "I was thinking we could steal Clockwerk's bigger, better body… and fly it up there… then he would take the wrap for it. We fly it back to earth – after some adjustments to the frame in order to keep our bodies safe from burning up… then ditch it in the stratosphere, making controlled halo jumps using a 'switchblade' board, which we named after a similar gadget in the last Brosnan _James Bond_ movie, and then we let the United States track Clockwerk's body on a preprogrammed flight towards Washington DC. That attack on Paris last week will still be fresh in their minds, so when they see it… they'll go above and beyond whatever it takes to stop what they perceive as a threat. NORAD will be busy that day, let me tell you. We'll slip back into the country undetected, safe and sound. Or anywhere _else_ we want to go for that matter."

"One thing," said Sly. "They claim that body is indestructible. They'll nuke it, kill anyone below with fallout, and it will continue on to DC."

Carmelita interjected with a smile. "Not if we sabotage Clockwerk's body from the inside out, hon. The pieces may be able to withstand the blast, but if we damage the joints in the hull before bailing out… concussive attacks will cause the frame to come apart, leaving the military to assume the target was successfully destroyed."

"Exactly." Moore waved her paw for the newly redressed 'recruits' to follow her. "Act natural but look like you're excited, curious and semi-awed by your surroundings." Carmelita and Sly fell into step behind Saundra, walking down the hallway together.

Fox asked, "I thought you weren't allowed to be here, anyhow?"

"Most of the night shift people have only seen me once or twice. They won't even remember my name off the top of their head. By the time all personnel on shift tonight has been interviewed, and by the time they start reviewing security footage from different areas of the building in the non-restricted areas… and by the time I'm seen and recognized by an analyst, they'll be distracted by something else… like the Clockwerk idea I just mentioned. If I am seen tonight, then yes… when the dust settles I'll be arrested but new evidence will conveniently surface and I'll look like a hero to the people that matter the most… like the president, for example. He'll pardon me and I'll smile, nod, and give AJ credit if he's not already dead by then."

"Dead from what?" Carmelita furrowed her brows yet again.

"He's terminal, remember?" Moore shook her head and continued down the hallway with a relaxed stride.

"I told you that, didn't I?" asked Sly, placing a paw on his fiancé's right elbow. "Right?"

"I already knew, it just wasn't fully confirmed until now." Carmelita waved a paw dismissingly. "It's fine. It's not like I care for him. I just… well, I don't understand why you guys are utilizing him if he's apparently so close to death that he'll drop at any moment. Doesn't he, uh, become a liability at that point? If he dies or something, his body will be found and it'll connect you somehow, right?" She didn't like the thought of White dying for some reason. Perhaps it was because he'd helped Sly and, later on, she'd helped him after he took a bullet. Deep down, she didn't want to think about him in a casket. She turned back to Saundra with expectation in her gaze.

"That's part of the reason for the CIA letting him go right now, Inspector. They put him on one last mission to Atlantis. It was supposed to be a volunteer suicide mission but he returned. Officially, they let him go to relax. Unofficially, he went with me on one last job. That's why _he_ isn't _here_ right now. That's why I separated from him… I could slip back into the building and do what needs to be done… he'd be recognized as the guy who is about to die… and it would throw up red flags. He's even cleaned his desk out already. In fact, his office is empty so that's the one I'm using to hack in and change the computer."

Sly nodded. "I get it. Since it's public knowledge that he's gone… anyone and everyone would be a suspect in this, because anyone would know to go in and use _his_ office computer to break into the internal network."

"You guys are on the ball tonight," murmured the squirrel. "I want to go to my office first and get my makeup."

Carmelita blinked but didn't ask. Sly, however, knew exactly what Moore was about to do and asked, "Who're you going to impersonate this time?"

"Once we get to the restricted area, I was thinking of doing something fun." They crossed the lobby and approached an elevator. She pressed the call button. "Remember all the copycat bank robberies where the crooks used Presidential masks?" She rubbed her chin in thought. The doors opened and she stepped in. She pressed a button on the wall and said, "I'm in my fifties – maybe I can pull off the first lady, or ex-first lady Hillary Clinton. Or maybe I can go for something more fun like Marilyn Monroe. Christ, that'd be a hoot… All sorts of conspiracy theories would come of that."

Sly smirked, leaning back against the elevator wall. "Cool, make me look like Kennedy or Joe DiMaggio or …maybe Elvis, just to really throw people for a loop."

"You're not old enough to pull off a modern Elvis-thought-to-be-dead impersonator. But if I _do_ go as Hillary, I'll make Carmelita look like Chelsea. Or one of the current First Daughters; it could be a family affair."

"I'm already masquerading as a Cooper Clan member," reminded Carmelita with a narrowed gaze.

"I know, I know," replied Saundra with a roll of her eyes. "I was just joking. I'm serious in the field, but right now… we're supposed to be smiling and acting casual – lighten up; I'm going for an Oscar here, and if you want 'Best Supporting Actress' you need to follow my lead, dear."

Sly drew Carmelita into his arms, so that the vixen's back was firm against his chest. He placed his paws upon her tummy and nuzzled his nose against the back of her neck, murring playfully. As if pressing a mood button, Carmelita's body language changed and she relaxed somewhat.

A coy grin tugged at the corner of Saundra's maw. "Much better. But don't look so cozy once we're off the elevator. Just for the sake of what I need from you – naïve and wide-eyed at the thought of becoming a CIA officer."

"Yeah, I remember," said Sly, his words muffled against the back of Carmelita's neck. The elevator came to a stop and the doors swished apart. Cooper withdrew his arms from his mate and gave her rump a firm swat. "Okay, time for our performance." The trio fell into a line, coming out of the elevator at a steady cadence-like pace. The hallway stretched out before them.

"So," Carmelita rubbed the side of her face. "Why does the CIA always have such an outlandish public opinion?"

The squirrel shrugged. "Gee, let's see… Vietnam, Nixon dragging us into a plot to remove Salvador Allende as president of Chile – without telling his own Secretary of State, much less anyone in Congress. And believe me, Bill Rogers was _pissed_ let me tell you. Oh, and in '91, we were told to cease political assassinations but… it happened again and we were slapped on the wrist for it a number of years later. She withdrew a small device that resembled a cellular smart-phone. She began running her fingers over the keypad for a moment. She paused to smile, once more, at the recent memory of her stakeout with Jacob then licked her lips and stuffed the small object back into her pocket. "I mean, c'mon… people distrust Mensa members out of paranoia concerning the group's intelligence… On that note, why would anyone trust any government group with the word 'Intelligence' in their name? Seriously."

"Fair enough…" Carmelita glanced from left to right, taking in the lay out of the building so as to memorize it for their future 'extraction' attempt.

* * *

**"What's taking them so long?"** The voice belonged to 'Eleven'. Elvena narrowed her eyes and ran her fingers back through her hair. "We heard their tapping noises… now nothing?" She sighed then shifted her weight. "It's not that I'm impatient – I just wish they could come up with a plan and implicate it sooner."

King remained motionless in a meditative stance. "Perhaps they seek to utilize 'time' as part of their plan. You claim you're not impatient. Please utilize that important virtue to the best of your ability."

Erik squinted through the water beyond his glass cage in an attempt to see Bentley, Murray or Penelope across from him. "She's getting on my nerves. She's rather unprofessional for a hired assassin-turned-guardian. Furthermore, why provide a bowl of water, with which to drink or urinate… if they're not going to feed us. It's been almost two days and I'm _starving_."

Murray sighed. "Yeah… I know what'cha mean."

Bentley added, "If you weren't injured, Miss Eleven, you'd be able to get yourself up to the top. It's like they knew exactly who they could capture in a prison like this one… and they utilized it to its fullest potential."

"Not only that," said Penelope," they knew not to keep us in groups else we would be able to combine as a team and help one another out. If they're not going to feed us, they probably don't care whether we live or die so long as we're not causing them trouble. What gets me is the fact that they're pumping heat in from above."

"It could be run off," said Bentley. "It could be whatever is filtering in from the heating system for the rest of the building. The thing is, heat rises… and they're rather deliberately pumping heat straight down into these chambers. Again, it's very possible that these chambers are serving as a jail but their true, primary function is something completely different."

Meanwhile, up in the rafters, above the cells, AJ and Cleopatra listened in on the group's conversation. AJ rubbed his chin with a sigh, shaking his head. His eyes trailed over the elaborate network of ducts, cable channels and tubes that came from high above. He whispered to Cleo. "If they only knew that those chambers are designed to heat, cool and boil the water during experiments. Some prison… more like death chambers that aren't being used at the moment… how do we get them out before they die? Eleven is in there."

Cleopatra narrowed her gaze, hearing Elvena's name. She had her PDA in her left palm, using her thumb over the glass screen. It appeared as though she was typing on a virtual keyboard due to the device's lack of physical keys. "Yeah, she is." The squirrel shook her head, sitting behind Jacob on a catwalk. She wanted to tell him that Eleven's true goal was to hinder the Cooper team from fulfilling their mission objectives regarding the Atlantis Dome city. She wanted to tell him that the CIA had put him out to pasture officially and that Eleven was _actually _his enemy. She also knew that Saundra wanted AJ in the dark for the time being. But that wasn't all Saundra wanted… Cleo peeked at her text message again then feigned a devious little grin at the way her sister's order was worded. Finally, the Baroness placed a paw upon his shoulders and offered a back massage to help him relax.

Jacob White's head lowered, giving her paws room to work. He grew silent, which is what she wanted. Together, they listened to the six people speak in the chambers below. Finally, Cleo leaned forward and whispered into his ear from behind. "Look, the next time they boil the water is when they'll need steam power to run their turbine generators. We have approximately one day before these guys begin… we can't rescue anyone until Sly Cooper is in Moscow. If we free them now, these guys will alert their superiors and the Lubyanka will be locked down as a precaution. Sly has to finish his mission first."

"What is his mission? Why would he go to the Lubyanka?"

"Carmelita and Sly are taking documents necessary to see this case through to an acceptable conclusion. I'm helping them to complete their objective although they don't know it directly. That's all I can tell you for now, love." She continued to rub at his shoulders and upper back. "God you have a beautiful body, Jake. It's a shame we're not on the same page, here."

"But we're in the same chapter of the same book," he replied. "Whatever your bio profile says about me… don't think I would jeopardize the mission if I found out all the finer details, Cleo. I'll admit I'm still a little put off by your abduction. I've been working my ass off, lately. You're cramping me. I just… want to know what's going on."

"All in time, my dear. You're sexy, strong and stupid… two out of three isn't bad. I promise, when the time is right… I'll tell you everything. Then you can become sexy, strong and smart. Right now, you're staying stupid until I deem that it's the right time. Just know that there's a reason for everything, okay?"

"Isn't there always?" Jacob sighed. He leaned back into her paws. "Your touch is nice." His eyes fluttered shut and a soft churring noise emanated from his throat. "I'll play along for a little while longer… just don't keep me in the dark forever, here… Please."

"Fair enough." Silence resumed. She continued the tender ministrations from behind him, running her fingers through his fur, over the sculpt of his shoulder blades and down his back. After a few moments, she whispered, "How was she?"

Jacob drew his lower lip between his teeth then frowned. Finally, he said, "You're both amazing every time. I know she's married – it just… happened."

"I think you should have a good comparison of who is better," she murmured. "You've probably forgotten." The squirrel wrapped her arms around his neck from behind then ran her paws down over the front of his shirt. She brushed her lips against the side of his neck and nibbled.

AJ began to breathe deeply and, in a husky voice, murmured, "I like the fact that you've always been the one that initiates it. I had to chase her, but with you… you're the one that chases me. I like seeing that aggressive side every so often."

"Do you now?" she purred against the side of his neck. Her paws went lower, exploring his figure. "You like being chased, do you? It's a European thing – women aren't as coy and submissive as they are in the States. You know… you're the _only_ man I've _ever_ shared with Saundra. I refuse to touch anything she's defiled – it was that way all through high school… but you, for some reason, I get territorial about. When I smelled that musk in the Denali, I knew I had to reclaim what's rightfully mine again. The only reason I'm doing this is to get her scent off of you." She tugged at his arm.

Jacob turned about to face her and reached to draw her into his lap. However, Cleo shook her head and, instead, guided him upon her. She pressed her lips against his then leaned back until he was fully upon her. Shamelessly, the squirrel lifted her knees until they were on either side of the fox's hips. Her tongue eased into his muzzle and her paws ran down his back only to grip firmly at his rump. She pulled him against her body and moaned softly into the lip-lock.

Jacob immediately worked his paws between her body and the catwalk surface. He began drawing down the zipper located at the base of her spine, where her tail met her backside. The creak of tight leather was heard as she shifted her weight but it changed in tone as he drew down the zipper at the back of her outfit.

Cleopatra broke the kiss and said, "Not like this." She began to sit up, guiding him into a kneeling position directly in front of her. She drew her legs back and now they knelt in front of one another. Next, she guided him back until Jake was on _his_ back. She wiggled out of the leather pants and began to work on unfastening his. "Can you stay quiet?"

"Yes."

She smiled. "Good." Then she drew his undergarment down to his knees and moved upon him. The squirrel straddled the gorgeously handsome fox, placed her paws upon his chest and settled her body upon his hips. She then leaned forward until those luscious globes of flesh-and-fur pressed against his shoulders. Her lips met his again and she began to grind against him with agonizing lascivious need. A paw slid down between their joined forms, helping to angle him so that she could impale herself. Seconds later, she lifted both hands, drawing her paws into tight fists. Her eyes clinched shut then she let out a long, slow sigh of content. Her lower lip trembled and, for a moment, she relaxed her form. Another quick sigh, as if in relief… then… she began moving against him in a rhythmic, erotic manner. Her head lifted, her hair tumbled down her back and she cooed, an she did her best to bite back a long, loud sensual noise in order to remain quiet.

The woman's vigor and passion drove her to be far more physical and intense than her sister had been with him. She clung to him in desire and fervor. She panted feverishly then clinched her eyes shut. Seconds later, a wet 'popping' sound filled the rafters. She gritted her teeth and clinched her throat muscles so as not to cry out, causing a stifled whine. The two lovers became tied together with their heated excitement and passionate joining… "Who's better?" she huffed softly.

"You," he whispered, heatedly.

"Jacob, you Lech," she panted. "B-but at least your prurience has its applications," she added in a faux attempt to sound as though she was only using him. She then told him, "It brings out a salacious side in me; I won't lie."

"_I'm_ the letch?" he murmured back then pulled her body down to his so that he could press his lips to hers. He gently closed his paw around her neck, causing her to squirm boisterously. "You like big, fancy words do you? Makes you feel like you're smart and I'm just the big, dumb jock you keep around as a fashion accessory; is that it?" His muffled words continued against her lips. "You're overcome by this need because you like to hunt and be in control and because I can't elude the lubricious embrace of the Baroness… is that it? I satisfy your indulgence? Deep down, you want to be mollycoddled, Cleo? _You_ tell _me_ – am _I_ the best _you_'ve had?" He kept his paw upon her neck, creating a sensation of exhilaration in her already-pounding heart.

Hearing him reply to her fancy lexicon was oddly arousing. Something about knowing that he was smarter than he appeared created a spark in her chest. She moved against him, fueled by the raw emotion. Something was different with him this time… There was no initial intent to catch feelings but… all at once… _she suddenly did_ catch feelings. She drew in a long, slow breath of air, leaned down and whispered into his ear. "…Yes!" Again, her lower lip trembled. "You won't let me die down here will you? You'll help me, won't you?"

"No, you won't die with me around and yes… I'll help you," he whispered back against her softly-furred neck. He couldn't see it, with his face buried against her throat, but a broad, daring smile crept across Cleopatra's muzzle.

* * *

**"This is a different elevator than the last one,"** said Carmelita.

"Indeed it is," replied Moore. "The other one went to the top floor. This one doesn't. Let's just say the CIA building is hit by a nuclear strike… anyone below the fifth floor would want to quickly evacuate… so, because the main elevator has been blown up with the top of the building, that elevator car is probably at the bottom of its shaft. How else do you evacuate people five stories below the ground? You put them on a self-sealed elevator that doesn't connect to the main one… just… stop thinking so much into it all… we're almost there."

Sly brought a paw to his chin. "It goes pretty deep." He nodded towards the panel on the wall. "There're a lot of buttons and…" he paused then approached a glass panel above the wall plate panel. "What's that thing?"

Saundra shifted to glance at the strange contraption inside of a glass case, above the button panel. "A Kearny Air Pump, just in case you're trapped in here during a nuclear attack." She readjusted her jeans then slid a paw down into them to smooth out a thigh pad beneath the denim. She was a mirror of Marilyn Monroe. Her squirrely tail was bound with restraints and reshaped with well-placed rubber bands, covered in orange to look like a fox's tail. Finally, the incognito squirrel toyed with the blonde wig, tucking a wavy errant ringlet behind one of her ears. "Okay… I'm using makeup that will rinse out easily… that way, once we're out of the area, I can drop the disguise easily. How do I look?"

Carmelita nodded, still as impressed and surprised as she was upstairs. "Like I said earlier… I'll just call you Norma Baker. You may not have been born in 1926, and if you were I'd have to admit you look great for your age… but regardless, you really pull it off quite well."

The secret squirrel withdrew her phone-like PDA once more and glanced at the small screen. A devious grin crossed her face. She blinked, looking back at Carmelita and Sly then she shrugged at them. Moore offered a coquettish smile and took on the part of Marilyn. "That's just killer, doll. I won't lie; like most Hollywood girls, I had a face-lift. I wanted to grow old without facelifts; I wanted to have the courage to be loyal to the face I've made, darling. Sometimes I think it would be easier to avoid old age, to die young… but then you'd never complete your life, would you? You'd never wholly know yourself… AH, but the facelift, yes… It did wonders for Cher, after all. And that cougar, Crawford, wouldn't leave me alone. I kept telling her she's _twenty-one_ years my senior but… at least I know for _sure_ she won't be bothering me these days. …I don't answer to anyone anymore; it's _so_ killer."

Sly, amused by Saundra's vocal talent and acting, asked, "Why? Because she died back in the 70's while _in_ her seventies? And I thought Crawford's species was a…"

Saundra lifted her paws and, in her normal voice, said, "Another definition of a cougar is a woman who seeks to date younger lovers." She turned to Carmelita and smiled. "But not like yourself, hon. There has to be more than five years of age difference between ya." She shrugged then, again, smiled, taking on the persona of Monroe once more. "Like Joan's acrimonious relationship with her children, she also had a lot of nasty things to say to _me_," continued the squirrel while 'in character', adding, "Until she got into my bloomers. Needless to say, the old gal is dead and I'm just fakin' it. How killer is that?"

Carmelita reached for her sweater, fixing the three buttons at the collar. "Your cleavage is showing, _Norma_." She buttoned the first two buttons, leaving the third open.

With a delighted smile, the Marilyn Monroe lookalike said, "The trouble with censors is that they worry if a girl has cleavage. They ought to worry if she _hasn't_ any."

"Uh-huh. You should only show that much if you're in bed."

Saundra, keeping to her character, said, "What do I wear in bed? Why, Chanel Number five, of course. Oh, don't think that way, doll – it's not true I had nothing on; I had the radio on." She lifted her left wrist, checking her watch. "My word – I've been on a calendar, but I've never been on _Time_."

"Okay, it's time to be professional," replied Inspector Fox. "This is your career, after all." She continued to fix the sweater until the lay was just right. Carmelita didn't intend to be a perfectionist; she just found it came natural to her that way.

Saundra shrugged ever so slightly. "A career is wonderful, but you can't curl up with it on a cold night. Ah but what can you say? Hollywood is a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul. Regardless, I appreciate your help, it's just killer, babe. I don't mind making jokes, but I don't want to look like one."

"You'd make a good actress," said Sly. "Why don't you just quit the CIA and move west?"

"Mmm, dreaming about being an actress is more exciting than being one. First, I'm trying to prove to myself that I'm a person. Then, maybe, I'll convince myself that I'm an actress." The elevator doors opened on the bottom floor. "Killer! It's our stop! This way, kids."

The old plaster walls had cables running along them on one side, a ventilation register about waist-high and two extremely old bicycles hanging by old metallic hooks. The tires were new but the bikes, themselves, were in excess of sixty years. A phone out of the mid '50s hung on the wall adjacent to a modernized telephone. The floor dipped – the ramp made from horizontal wooden slats. At the bottom of the ramp, it evened out into asbestos tiles. The light fixtures were equally old but the bulbs were modernized low-cost compact fluorescent light bulbs.

The trio walked down the hall and stopped in front of another elevator shaft. They boarded and ascended two floors. Upon stepping out, Carmelita and Sly were quick to note that this section appeared high tech and modern. Much like the lodestone strata compass out in front of the building, there were a series of dots and dashes on the marble floor.

Sly knelt, rubbing his fingertips over it. "I don't read Morse code…"

Saundra paused and glanced back at him. She dropped the 'character' momentarily. "At least you're astute enough to know it is Morse code instead of imperfections in the surface, as most still think. It says 'Shadow Forces" and "Virtually Invisible." We're on a time crunch here, guys. C'mon." She began walking again. Sly stood up, falling into step behind Carmelita and Saundra.

They followed Moore into a woman's bathroom. Once inside, she locked the door. "Strip off the gift shop duds," the squirrel said in her normal voice. "These guns are plastic and are to be used in an emergency as they only hold a few rounds. However, they can be used accurately at a distance. We'll need them during our getaway. Until then," she placed two real-looking weapons on the bathroom sink counter. "I want you guys to use the shock pistol and cane for close quarters combat."

Carmelita threw the shirt into a sink. "Why can't I use my shock pistol exclusively?"

Saundra took Carmelita's facemask and burgundy hat from her bag and passed it back to the inspector. "Because if you miss and hit something important, you'll cause more damage than good… or possibly start a fire down here."

Carmelita placed her accoutrements on the counter then doubled over, sliding off the sweat pants with the CIA logo. She tossed it in the sink atop of the shirt and ball cap then reattached her facial mask and burgundy cap. She fixed her hair and ran her paws down over the skin-tight body suit complete with makeshift matching jacket."

Sly took back his facial mask and blue hat from Saundra then turned to Carmelita with a grin. "Very fetching to see you like this, y'know." His eyes raked over her form with a nod of appreciation then he eased his paws back behind his head to tie a knot into the back of the mask. He withdrew his cane from where it was concealed in his belt beneath the baggy CIA clothing and gave it a twirl. Cooper then turned back towards the door in his own stealth suit, given to him during the mission with AJ over a week ago.

Carmelita glanced at Moore then back at Sly and shook her head. "I can equally say the same – you're tone but you've got one of the most shapely asses I've ever seen on a man." She checked her shock pistol then holstered it and reached for the tranquilizer gun, checking the weapon. Satisfied, she placed it into a holster opposite of her primary pistol. "I'm ready."

"Good," said Moore softly. "Both of you do your absolute best _not_ to kill anyone, please. We have to be quick – upon seeing us, the guards will shoot first and ask questions if we live… It's not up to them to investigate… it's up to them to safeguard our destination."

"No problem," said Sly with a grin. "It's a shame this hallway isn't any taller… or I could go in from above and take them out with ease."

"This hallway is designed against such things," explained the squirrel with a shrug. "You guys ready or what?" She walked between them, unlocked the bathroom door and stepped back out into the hallway. "Remember – their first priority will be to sounding an alarm. We have to be faster. Stun anyone you see as soon as you see them and before they have time to react."

"Understood," Carmelita whispered. The corridor began to bow about in a semi-circle. Up ahead, two guards stood parallel to glossy black double doors. On either side of the checkpoint was a plain gray panel set into the wall. As soon as they came around the bend, the closest guard turned.

One a rat, the other a groundhog, they both went for their side arm. "Stop; I need to see ID," said the long-tailed rat – the closer of the two.

"It's right here," said 'Norma Jeane Baker'. She reached behind herself and eased a weapon from the backside of her jeans. The concealed holster provided a whisper of noise as the weapon was withdrawn. Carmelita, who saw the intent from standing behind the fox-like squirrel, also reached for her shock pistol.

Saundra took two more steps forward in the time it took for her to get the gun from behind herself to a ready position. She fired on the rat; Carmelita fired on the groundhog.

Carmelita's victim threw his arms out to brace himself from the intensity of the shock. He struck the facing wall across from the doors then dropped to the ground. Meanwhile, the rat attempted to reach for the pinch he felt on his neck. However, he never got his paw up that high before dropping to the ground. Sly moved ahead of the girls, taking both guards by their shirts. He dragged them away from the doorway then waved at the shiny onyx sliding doors.

Saundra withdrew a card key from the rat, handing it to Carmelita. She then took the groundhog by his neck and, with Sly's help, stood the man up. While Cooper kept him steady, she used a thumb to force his eye open then, together, they brought him to the panel to the left of the door. In unison, Carmelita brought the magnetic code key to the flat panel on the right side of the door. It slid open.

The groundhog was thrown to the floor and Inspector Fox pocketed the card key. Inside the enormous room, computers lined the walls and a back-to-back row of super computers took up space at the very center of the massive room. Two men, inside, quickly noticed the trio enter. One went for his weapon; the other ran for the alarm panel.

Carmelita quickly took aim then fired at the man in mid sprint. Her round struck him off center so that he went flying like a spinning top. The feline made a chilling gasp noise then struck one of the computer stations on the wall and skidded across the floor, coming to rest in a slumped position just beneath the alarm panel.

Meanwhile, Sly broke into a hard dash. He used his cane to vault over the super computers at the center of the room then dove off of it. Attacking from above, his cane struck the man in the head that fired his silenced weapon at Saundra. The round narrowly missed her. The mephit, smaller in stature than their past friend, Stephan, and with different markings, was knocked to the floor. Dazed but not unconscious, he lay on his side, writhing in pain. The mustelid saw stars and was too fazed to release his natural self-defense odor.

Cooper gave him another stern whack then watched as the man came to a complete rest. Sly knelt down and checked the man for his pulse then sighed in relief. "He's out."

"Good." Saundra waltzed across the room, approached a computerized workstation and sat down on a stool. She began typing with quick deliberate keystrokes. After a matter of sections, she lifted her right paw then brought it down hard and fast, striking the 'enter' key with a sense of finality. The computer screen changed. Text rapidly flowed over the screen faster too quickly to read. It began to cycle for several seconds then, rather abruptly, stopped. It dimmed then changed, showing a numerical sequence, approximately sixty-four letters in length, three lines long.

Moore withdrew a digital camera and turned it on. She thumbed the 'portrait' setting and turned off the flash then took two pictures of the screen. The first was grainy; the second one came out sharp and crystal clear. She zoomed up on the image using the camera's control buttons then announced, "It's crisp; we're done. Let's get the hell out of this place." She stuffed the camera in her pocket and began typing again.

"What's next?" asked Carmelita.

"We run our asses off," replied Saundra. The Marilyn Monroe lookalike typed quickly then pulled a small object out of her pocket. She inserted the USB flash drive into a jack in the wall. She reached for a trackpad mouse and opened up an application on the drive then withdrew the drive and put it back into her pocket. "Okay, I infected their computer with a virus to cover our tracks. That was the easy part… Now for the hard part! Let's get the 'eff' out of here!"

Carmelita wrinkled her nose at the cussword then fell into step as the other two headed for the door. They followed Saundra down the hallway, back towards the elevator and quickly boarded it. Saundra lowered back to the lowest floor but when the doors opened she dashed in the hall opposite of their original lift, deviating from the way in which they'd initially come.

"What's going on?" asked Carmelita, "I thought the elevator back upstairs was back this way?"

"Remember last time you left the CIA compound, Fox?" asked Saundra as they hurried through the archaic hallway. "You want to be surrounded by cops again? Forget that! This way!" They raced through the hall but up ahead, three armed men ran towards them! "Take cover!" she shouted.

"Where?!" the Inspector cried in rebuttal. "We're in a hallway!"

Two clicks caused Sly's ears to flicker. A whistling sound floated through the air then was gone. He shoved Carmelita down against the wall, bringing up his cane just in time for a round to hit the hook. The metallic cane head rang out like a tuning fork. "Mercy!" Cooper mouthed barely loud enough for Carmelita to hear him. She pulled her tranq pistol out from beneath her hip and aimed it down the hallway.

Saundra, still gussied up like Marilyn Monroe, fired a round, striking one of the men, a canine, in the neck. The man stumbled in mid run, causing the other two men to crash to the floor. Moore shouted, "Hey! I knew the president, you ass!" She dabbed a finger into a hole in her orange draped sweater, a popular style in the '60s. "Even Jackie's bullies didn't treat me _this _badly!" She lifted her weapon again, taking aim at the two men on the floor. Firing on the left one left her a target to the one on the right.

He fired his weapon just as a round from Carmelita's tranquilizer pistol struck him in his shoulder. His round narrowly missed Saundra, passing through her sweater inches above the first hole. Moore grinded her teeth together. "It's _ruined_," she muttered then turned for Sly and Carmelita. "Get up; I've died once already, people. C'mon!"

"Who the hell is Jackie?" asked Carmelita as she got up with a grunt.

Sly helped his fiancé to her feet, answering her. "Kennedy's wife, hon." He took point and headed through the hall, cane at the ready. There was a wooden door halfway down the long corridor. "It's old as hell, why wouldn't it be metal?"

Saundra came up behind him and knelt down in the hallway, working diligently to pick the lock. "If this place was attacked by fire, wood chars while metal melts… It's the way out! Cover me!"

Sly pushed her aside and took the lock pick dangling from the keyhole. "Let me do it." He stuffed his cane under one arm and manipulated the pick then smirked. There was an audible click and the door creaked open on noisy hinges. "Let's make like John Dillinger!" He waved for them and rushed into the tunnel. Two more gunshots rang out in the hall from which they'd come.

Cooper's ears twitched, hearing the elevator chime. The doors audible swished apart and loud footfalls followed. More gunshots. Carmelita and Saundra hurried through, after Cooper, and broke into a hard sprint in the dimly illuminated old cave. It was part concrete, part mold and part caked dirt and clay. Shouting could be heard from behind as more suppressed gunshots filled the air.

"There are more than a few people back there!" said Sly as the trio ran for their lives.

Carmelita drew her shock pistol back and fired over her shoulder. "At least a dozen of them!" she huffed. The blindingly bright blue discharge created a rapidly moving light show against the sidewalls as the round screamed down the bunker hallway, striking the second man through the old doorway. "Go, go, go! How far is this thing, Norma!"

"I don't know!" she shouted back. "It's off limits except in times of life or death emergency!"

Sly shouted back to them both, "Seems like an appropriate escape route, then! No one else will be down here, ahead of us… and this _is_ a life or death emergency!"

Saundra fired two rounds over her shoulder, Carmelita let off another shock round, which sailed through the darkness, like a ball of lightning. She fired two more times, still running as hard as she could manage. "What if this place is a dead end!"

"Then it lives up to its name!" cried Sly. "I see something up ahead! The wall lamps are different!" As they got closer, he could tell that it was an intersection. "Keep straight!" he told them, adding, "Keep shooting, though!" They passed through the intersecting hallway and continued down into the dimly illuminated straightaway. "What is this place?" he exclaimed, adding, "Hurry, Saundra, before we loose you!"

"It's been here since the war!" huffed Saundra, adding, "The Civil War!" She was starting to fall behind from the heels she wore. "A wise girl kisses, but doesn't love," she huffed, adding, "Listens bust doesn't believe and _leaves before she is left_!" She kicked off her shoes, scooped them up then chucked them back at the people pursuing them.

Carmelita shouted, "Hurry up, keep up with the group!" Together they dashed through the dank corridor, shooting back at the group of men in pursuit.

"I have never been very good at being a member of any group – more than a group of two, that is!"

Carmelita Fox narrowed her gaze, shouting, "Stop with the Marilyn Monroe quotes! Come on! If you don't move your big size fourteen ass, I'm going to throw you over my shoulder and _make_ you hurry!"

Saundra, now without shoes, quickened her pace, catching up with the team. "Big breasts, big ass, big deal! Can't I be anything else? Gee, how long can you be sexy? Besides, not a single one of you is my Svengali!" She was now mixing quotes together. As she neared Sly and Carmelita, she noted that Sly broke to the left at the next intersection. Smoke from his cane began to fill the first intersection. She rushed through it as the cloud expanded behind her. Sly made the next immediate right and she followed. The hallways became complex, turning back to the right once more, only to make another left. The clever raccoon now had them back on track as if they'd gone straight all along. Up ahead was another group of intersections and, hanging on the wall, were five bicycles. All of them were old but each one had fresh, fully inflated tires.

Without giving it a second thought, Sly used his cane and struck two of them hard enough to make them inoperable. He grabbed a bike off the wall, as did Carmelita and Saundra. They left the trashed bikes up on the wall and began to pedal on the remaining three to gain distance on their enemies.

Carmelita told the other woman, "What was wrong back there? Don't know how to run in heels, babe?" She smirked, pedaling her tail off. Saundra kept pace, both of them were only several feet behind Sly.

Saundra huffed, then said, "I learned to walk as a baby and I haven't had a lesson since!" She leaned forward and poured her body into it, starting to pedal passed the younger, tougher Inspector.

"Will you quit it with the Monroe one-liners!" They both pointed their weapons back down the hall. Just as several men came back into view, both the shock pistol and Saundra's dart pistol fired. Live ammunition struck the walls, floor and ceiling, creating fantastic ricochet sounds that echoed all around the trio. A round struck Carmelita's rear deflector and glanced off the metal pole upon which her seat was attached. The vixen cried out a random vituperative curse.

"Remember now," replied the older woman. "Cheers, no tears!" She hunched forward, over the handlebars. "We're almost there, kids! Wherever _there_ is…! I can barely see them anymore!" Another round sailed by first striking the wall then bouncing off and creating sparks on Saundra's tire spokes. Instead of flinching, she pedaled harder. Another round screamed by, narrowly missing the coterie.

"We have their attention now," Sly called from the front of the group. Another stray bullet hit his cane, which he kept horizontal across his handlebars. He felt the temporary vibrations of the metallic top against his palms but the wooden pole helped to absorb the sensation of impact. Again, the hooked top rang out like a tuning fork. "Why couldn't we have help from your buddy, AJ, again?"

The tunnel changed in style. The dank mold and clay-covered surroundings appeared cleaner and made in a different style. It was modernized concrete with occasional patches of redbrick masonry to fill gaps and holes where needed. There was a small section with a machine built into the walls. The group passed by it too quickly for anyone to make an educated guess as to its true use or meaning.

"Because, Cooper, he's with my sister! I ordered her to do whatever it takes to ensure she has his cooperation, so we may not be seeing him for a while!" she panted, still pedaling hard. "The three of us managed just fine, now didn't we?" she added on the next breath.

The tunnel opened up into a large dwelling up ahead. The three thieves emerged into a massive underground chamber with a higher ceiling. In the center of the room was what appeared to be an old train car. The rails it sat on appeared to be just maintained enough to be of use. The car that sat on the tracks looked at least seventy to eight years old. Saundra exclaimed, "We made it to the sandhog room! Thank _God_! I actually _know _my way from here! It only goes north, after all!" She was high on adrenaline, not having been in the field like this for a number of years.

Sly, Carmelita and Saundra leapt from their bikes and boarded the flatbed train car. Upon it was a tall antenna that touched a metallic rail wire above the car. There was an archaic control panel at one end of the car and comfortable but horribly outdated whicker seats. Sly, the first one aboard the tram, quickly approached the control lever and gave it a tug. An electric DC generator rumbled to life, providing localized power to the tramcar. It began to move forward. Carmelita settled into a seat, bracing her paws on the arm rests. Meanwhile, Saundra withdrew a tall bottle of water from her knapsack and began to use it to wash the makeup off of her face. The tramcar began to pick up speed, disappearing into a tunnel, leaving the larger room behind. Saundra continued to use the water to get her face clean then she washed the makeup out of her tail fur.

She took off the sweater and jeans, tossing them to the ground as it raced by. She unbound her tail so that it resembled the tail of a squirrel again then reached for a fresh bottle of water with which to rinse off the spray-on makeup. The tramcar picked up speed, powered by the DC motor. I surpassed twenty miles an hour, headed north towards Pentagon City. Gunshots sounded out again, some without sound suppression. The noise thundered through the grand subterranean corridor.

"Can you see them?" shouted Carmelita. She knelt down behind the whicker chair simply to brace herself before taking aim. She placed her wrists across the top of the whicker backrest and fired. The glowing round provided illumination, allowing Saundra to fire in conjunction at targets in the distance. Three of the CIA guards were on the bikes.

"You should've trashed them with your cane," said Moore, taking another shot seconds after Carmelita's next round. A bullet struck the platform, splintering the edge of their wooden tramcar. Another gunshot rang out loudly, passed over them. It struck the top of the tunnel and bounced. A round hit one of the rails, creating a shower of sparks. Carmelita and Saundra continued to return fire but the railway quickened its pace, slowly gaining speed and distance on the bikers.

Sly sighed softly, glad that they were losing the attackers. "How do we get out of here and where are we?"

"Nearly beneath the Anacostia Freeway. We'll pass through an empty station first – that's the Pentagon. When I tell you to get ready, I want you two to damn well be ready. Once in DC, we'll jump off and let the rail go. From there we'll walk until we find one of the mole holes."

"Mole holes?" asked Fox.

Moore nodded. "On occasion, there are randomized small tunnels that branch off of this and disappear for a mile or two in any given direction. We'll come up beneath a monument or in the basement of an old mansion in DuPont Circle that used to belong to a Senator or… any number of other places."

"Any one we're looking for in particular?"

"The one I'm looking for," Saundra paused then cleared her throat, sneezed and began washing the orange from her tail again. "The one I _want_ was a favorite of Kennedy. He used to walk through it from the Whitehouse to one particular exit to go on attend midnight rendezvous with various lady-friends. Nixon, tired of the smell of mildew during humid summers, had it blocked off… but there's still an intersecting section that takes us out to the original exit, thirty-to-forty feet from the blockade.

"We'll take a cab out of the city separately. I'll have you two go to Dulles Airport and I'll go to Reagan International." She rubbed her eyes, which were somewhat irritated from getting a little bit of the makeup in them. "Make sure you change your clothes, obviously. Don't worry; I brought something you guys can throw over your stealth suits. When you get to Germany, you'll have a connecting flight that takes you into Moscow. It's the best I could find in such short notice. From there… you contact me and I'll guide you through."

"Sounds good." Sly smiled then took his fiancé's paw, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Is that one going to be as easy as this one was?"

Saundra giggled then abruptly cleared her throat. "No, far from it. The Russians don't have a sensational escape route clouded in myth and mystery."

* * *

A/N: _Okay! LOTS happened here! First, our people broke into the CIA! And lived to tell! Barely. Next, Saundra casually and discretely texted her sister to seduce AJ in order to maintain control over him. That's what happens in the world of espionage. Sex, intimidation and blackmail. Yeah, AJ could use it against Saundra and entrap her if she doesn't wanna lose her husband… but AJ is too loyal to his coworkers to rat her out that way… so she and her sister use AJ by taking advantage of his 'loyalty weakness'. Next up, we had the heist and the escape. _

_I went a little overboard giving you detailed layouts… like the lodestone and the hallway markings that read messages in Morse code at the CIA building. Like the whicker seats on the underground tramline. Let alone the fact that it runs on DC power instead of AC power. I went overboard with the Marilyn Monroe joke (but that can be explained away by saying that Saundra gets in over her head when she's 'in character'). I went overboard with the inside jokes and I also went a little overboard with the way Cleopatra seduced Jacob White. The poor Cooper gang… they're starving – nothing to eat for two days now… and they don't even realize that they're inside of multiple ovens used to change the water temperature to create steam power… meanwhile, directly above, Cleo and AJ are going at it while waiting for the right opportunity to rescue the gang (like, for example, when Sly has the full code for the satellite. Hurry Sly! Your friends are REALLY hungry!) and, on that note, I went out of my way to keep from detailing anything blatent. Instead, I chose to word how they felt, some hand gestures, general touching, kissing and, at one point, sound effects. The difference between when Saundra seduced him and when Cleo seduced him… is that Cleo took it to the next level by tying the act, which means those two are going to be kinda' stuck together for almost an hour, now. That sorta' makes it more intimate and romantic, no? I also peppered the scene with humor – where Cleo's idea of 'dirty talk' involves talking over his head to assert her intellectual dominance over him. But she's surprised (and becomes rather enamored) to find out that he's not as dumb as she originally thought… and maybe that's been AJ's issue all along… _

_After all, Saundra, earlier on in this story, calls him a god-amongst-men for being the king of all screw-ups… but that just means she thinks she's superior to him… so maybe AJ has been playing these sisters all along in order to… A) get laid, and B) get his way with them by letting them think they're in control of the situation then GENTLY manipulating the situation to go in the direction he wants… is he really that smart or am I now making him sound like he's way more than he really is? Who the hell knows with that guy? Even I don't know all of my plans involving Jacob White. He's fun to write and, whether or not he's getting manipulated by these girls… one thing is for sure… Agent Jacob is having one hell of a good time before he punches his 'ticket' in this world. Go AJ! Do yo' thang, man! Oh, and as a side related note, there's NO juxtaposition between AJ and Aldrich Ames. And if you don't know who Ames is… look him up on the internet or go visit his treasonous arse at USP Allenwood in Pennsylvania. Visiting hours are between 10am and 2pm. SO YEAH! THANKS FOR READING and I'll see you next chapter! _

_-k _


	21. Adult World

A/N: _ I started the first few pages back on September 10__th__ of 2009. Boy, almost a year later I finally pick up where I left off. D:

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_

Chapter -21-  
"Adult World"

_Lubyanskaya Square_, Tverskoy, Moscow, Russia…

**"Behold… this is Children's World** toy store," said Saundra over the cellular phone. Sly and Carmelita huddled around the phone, having waited half an hour for the call to come through. They sat upon the rooftop of the Children's World toy store directly across from the Lubyanka building – home of the FSB, home of the one-time KGB. Saundra continued speaking to them. "_Federalnaya sluzhba bezopasnosti Rossiyskoy Federaciyi. _You can call them the FSB if you like – these guys take their jobs seriously and quite a few of them still go home and dream about their glory days when it was still the KGB. Some of them have fond thoughts on dark people, like Lavrenti Beria, the architect of Stalin's terror machine, who also patrolled Moscow's streets in a limo, looking for beautiful women to rape. Be prepared, some of these guys are still real slime balls; they look out for one another and have that 'good ole boy' mentality about their clique. So let's keep our focus here. See the grayish building on the left side? That's the Federal Security Service headquarters building. They're one in the same to a degree. You're looking at a lot of stuff – the border patrol offices, a prison… there's a lot of crap in those buildings. What we're going to need, just like earlier, is underground to a degree. If Russia got nuked tomorrow, they wouldn't want all the information from their computers to be wiped out… so it's fairly far underground but we _may _not need to hit it from that angle; I'm not sure, yet. It's in one of two places… the top or the bottom. I've decided to pick the most likely place to start… Where we're going is beneath the lot, between the two buildings. It's approximately ten stories below the street level unless they've recently moved their datacenter around. I doubt it, but I'm just leaving room for error on my part."

Carmelita waited until Saundra trailed off from speaking then said, "Okay, enough with the history. I can read up on it later if I want. Do we know for sure that this information is here?"

"If it's not, it's in their satellite office in the mountains of Chechnya. Let's hope not because it would be in the Glavnoje Razvedyvatel'noje Upravlenije office, protected by the Spetsnaz. And if you think the GRU mess around, you'd be sadly mistaken. They probably already suspect your placement and wonder why you're back in Russia, right now – however, I've taken care of that detail for you. Be glad for corruption; I personally purchased BOTH of your FSB files to slow down their progress. Be thankful that corruption runs deep, here. If they knew you were here to do what you're about to do… the Spetsnaz would already be sending agents to your location right now. Look, let's focus on the datacenter in _your_ current location, okay? This location has fewer guns wielded by fewer men in wider hallways. I'm sure their network is connected and we'll get what we need all the same, okay? Now… let's get started."

"You're the expert," murmured Sly. "I'm ready – we're both ready."

Saundra's voice continued over the line. "Good deal. I don't know where their datacenter is located. Now, I assume it's beneath the detention center. It's a maze of green-painted metallic bars that are designed both horizontally and vertically. Trust me, if you're in one of those cells, you're not getting out easily. Just ask Gary Powers, shot down on May first, 1960. He stayed there until getting "spy swapped" on February tenth of 1962 and…"

"Stop," said Carmelita with a sigh. "Enough. I understand it's an important place. Stalin's son was there, too. Big deal. You get chatty when you're excited. Tone it down and take a diazepam. Now, how do we get down there? Do we take the subway, or do we go in through the main gates? You said to focus – we're ready to focus."

There was a pause, followed by, "You're right. I'm sorry – I am a little excited. I'm also nervous for you two – your beau had better be as good as expected or you're both going to take up residence there."

Sly grinned. "Carmelita wouldn't like being the only international cop sentenced to hard labor." He abruptly received a punch in his arm. He sucked in air to keep from yelping then replied with a silent smirk.

Saundra sighed. "Gary didn't take this stuff seriously, either. He was in equally good spirits the day his fuel gauge was '_fixed_', causing a forty-seven year old father of two to crash a news helicopter and die. That was _fifteen years_ after his release from Lubyanka. But he started to speak out and that wasn't tolerated. He should have taken the spy world more seriously. Do you two understand the _deadly_ repercussions of spending as little as a single day in the spotlight of the espionage world? I know I droned on earlier… but you two need to take this seriously and get a grip _right now_, because your deaths would be no great loss to the spy world. Powers' death wasn't – he was honored posthumously as a hero, but that didn't help him back in '77, did it? Now, listen up – we're fortunate because I also bought the files of two construction workers on a team that's supposed to be running cable through the lowest three floors in the facility. I bought the files through my CIA channels, doctored them then _allowed_ those files to be stolen back by the FSB. The files were of the entire construction crew detail. Those files wound up back in the archive. So… the FSB thinks you two are construction workers, who have already checked out with their security background. You'll need to abduct two workers from their hotel. You may kill them if you like, but hide the bodies if you do. Alternatively, you may render them both unconscious but they must remain that way for more than twenty-four hours to give you time to get _very_ far away. It has to be more than just a blow to the head… be creative. Here's a bit of a hint… trash is taken out day after tomorrow at ten in the morning… locking them up in the garbage chute is feasible. They'll be rescued long after we're gone. Do you both follow me so far?"

Carmelita placed a finger on Sly's lips to keep him quiet. "We're with you, Miss Moore. We're not official members of any program that puts us above any law – there will be _no_ murders. What time do these workers head to their post? What about their coworkers?"

"Fine with me." Saundra's voice clipped as the encryption software changed to a fresh encoding algorithm. She then continued. "These two were chosen because they work separately from the rest of the party – this week, only. They're both tasked with running cable on the lowest levels. The guards rotate often so there's no breaking of a pattern here… no one will notice. The hardest part will be in pretending you already know your way around. If you look lost, you'll arouse suspicion but, unfortunately, there's no map. Furthermore, good luck reading signs posted throughout the compound. They're in Russian. I suggest letting your husband lead – he can use his instincts to get you two to the bottom floor. …Hopefully. I'm going to hang up now and send you a text message. Give it a few seconds to decrypt then open it. It will have the exact address of the nearby hotel, as well as their room numbers. There's just one more thing…"

Carmelita eyed her mate and whispered, "_Husband_ huh?"

Cooper grinned at his fiancée then cleared his throat. "Go on."

Saundra took a deep breath followed by a long sigh. "All the workers on this detail are male. Inspector, you'll need to wear overalls and use a man's cologne. Tuck your hair into a hat, chew on a cigar… or better yet, grab yourself a painter's mask. Since running these cables would require going near insulation material, no one will question you making it part of your uniform. Finally, find yourself a full-body bodice and make it tight. If they see that you have breasts, the jig is up and they'll question you. I'd do this job myself but you know that's not possible."

Fox tightened her jaw. "I'll handle it, Miss Moore. We won't arouse suspicions. How do we extract the information? Flash drive, like before?"

"Yes," replied the squirrel over the line. "It's been mailed to those workers with explicit instructions to the concierge that a "friend of raccoon persuasion" will be coming to pick it up after hours. Once Sly walks into the lobby, they'll probably approach him with the package. Sly, I want you to act natural, receive the package, smile and nod then head to the rooms; act like you belong there. After that, you deliver the package. There's more than a flash drive inside. There are also two pistols. One will fire a silenced forty caliber round. The other will fire darts tipped in potent curare. It's lethal – it immobilizes every part of the victim, including their respiratory system. They'll die from asphyxiation. If you want to use it as a tranquilizer, you'll have to procure your own sleep darts. I've not included that. Else, save it and use it in emergencies that require silent yet lethal action, understand?"

"I'll take it as a precautionary measure," Carmelita started. She sighed then said, "But I would prefer not to poison anyone to death. Okay. Hang up and we'll wait for your text message with all the information we'll need to do this job. Inspector Fox – over and out, crazy lady." She closed the lid of the cellular phone and, once more, sighed with a shake of her head. "Toxic darts? A forty-caliber gun? Asking us to hide bodies in the garbage disposal? She's taking all of this crap a little overboard. Who does she think she is? La Femme Nikita?" Carmelita rubbed either side of her face.

The cellular phone chirped and vibrated in unison. They looked at one another. Carmelita ran her thumb over the phone's plastic shell. "Okay, that's our text message. Should I just wait here and you go do this? What if I don't pull off a male effectively enough and it blows our cover?"

Cooper eyed her with a shake of his head. "Will you stop worrying about everything? There's supposed to be two of us involved in this – we'll make it work; whatever it takes, love. Relax."

* * *

_Hours later…_

**From the rooftop of the Church of Sophia**, Sly Cooper kept his feet together upon the top of the dome's spire. He glanced down upon the Sofijka Temple then gazed back into his binoculars. The raccoon cut his eyes over to the Detsky Mir, the 'Children's World' toy store from earlier. He gazed back across the square to the ominous rectangular-looking building. He spoke softly but clearly so the binoc-u-com would pick up his voice. "Carmelita, maybe we could break into the toy store after the job, sneak into those really big five-foot-tall teddy bears and have them mailed to the safe house. No one would suspect a thing and it'd be impossible to trail us."

"Grow up, Sly," said Carmelita over the Bluetooth earpiece clipped to his ear. "That would be awful; hot, sweaty and it would be hard to breathe in that thing. Are you in position?"

"Yup. It's a little brisk up here but I can see the Kremlin all lit up. The Cathedral of Annunciation looks good from this height."

"They call it the Blagoveschensky sobor."

"I'm more interested in the Kremlin Armory," replied Sly.

"If you're talking about the Orlov Diamond, you can forget about it."

"The Orloff is only _190 carats_, Carmelita. It's no Cullinan or Golden Jubilee. Would you be interested in having one of those Cullinan fragments, by the way?"

"Get over yourself, Sly. You're not stealing anything, mister."

Saundra's voice came in over the binoc-u-com's channel. It distorted at first as the encryption software kicked in but then her voice cleared up. "So are you guys going to use my plan?"

"Yeah," said Sly casually. "We don't have any other options, do we?"

"You could abduct one of the seksots."

Carmelita's voice came back over the line. "Sex _what_?"

"No, dear, it's an abbreviation for _sekretnyi sotrudnik_. A secret employee or any part-time informer for the KGB or FSB. Listen, kids, I don't care what anyone else says, whether that building is full of Komitet Gosudarstvennov Bezopasnosti or the more modern FSB counterparts, keep in mind that there are still people with guns there, these days… it's not going to be easy to penetrate. Have you guys thought about your escape route?"

"I'm thinking we can get back out from the metro line," said Sly, adding, "I had another idea but Carmelita shot it down."

The squirrel sighed rather audibly then said, "The toy bear thing? I heard when I joined the line… I agree with Inspector Fox… it was silly. Get your head in the game, Sly. You're about to make _history_ as the first person to ever break into the Lubyanka, escape and go completely _undetected_… RIGHT?"

"Speaking of history," he replied, changing the subject, "How old is this building?"

"It's over a hundred years old. What's it matter?"

"Just curious," Sly murmured.

Another sigh then Saundra said, "It was an insurance company in 1898 until the Bolsheviks took over in 1918. Now it's a three-building deathtrap. I don't _care_ what the media says about its _current_ tenants. Do _not_ get captured because I won't be coming to rescue you. Now, remember, the computers are _probably_ several stories below ground, protected by reinforced concrete. They wouldn't want sensitive data to be destroyed if a nuke was dropped on Russia – it'll all be safe in a bunker. So start from the bottom and work your way up."

"Rodger dodger," Sly said with a grin of self-amusement. "I'm going to make my way in then get changed."

"Why not just change into your disguise then walk right in?"

"Lady, for a Central _Intelligence_ Agent, you aren't being very smart here…" Sly paused for effect, grinned inwardly then said, "I don't speak Russian. Well, just a few words but that doesn't count. Look, I don't want to get roped into a conversation while signing in with the lobby guard. Like you said a few hours ago… raising suspicion would be _bad_."

"…Not how I said it…" she interjected.

"Close enough," Sly cut her off the same way she'd just spoke over him. He then added, "Close enough for _Government work_. Isn't that how your types operate? Okay, enough with the jokes – I know, I know… be professional; I'm on the clock. Yeah, so… Carmelita, you still there?"

"Yes, Sly."

He smiled. "I've got a plan. Every twenty minutes, I'm seeing workers pop out the side door for a smoke break. They prop the door with something small – some sort of wooden wedge – I'll be down to let you in through that door shortly. I want you to be close by. Ready?"

"I'm putting my overalls on overtop of my sneaking suit. I'll be there, Sly, waiting for you. Don't dilly-dally."

"See you then." Sly bound off the ornate domed building and made his way to a rather high street lamp. From there, he somersaulted to a traffic light then bound back upwards, landing on an electric wire above the street. He glanced both ways, seeing the streets verily empty then dashed across the square, high above the road. A white rectangular sign hung from the wire. The sign, simply saying, 'CTOn,' waved back and forth as he ran overtop of it.

Cooper made his way to the building then leapt from the nearest traffic light to the beige-painted corner, which was extremely easy to scale because of the way the building was designed. The windows to the left and right of the building's corners had an elaborate reddish-brick ornamentation that protruded from the siding. He was able to shimmy from them to the next ledge up, repeatedly until he was on the roof. After a tricky maneuver over a simplistic metallic fence, he checked for surveillance then figured out the best way to avoid each camera. The raccoon crossed the top then gazed down into the courtyard below, at the center of the square building. One of the inner-walls had an open window. Sly grinned – his luck paid off.

Minutes later, he was on the first floor, opening the door for Carmelita Fox. She approached him and quietly said, "They have backscatter X-ray machines, millimeter wave detectors and everything else… and you just let yourself in from the roof, huh?"

"Scary thought, right? No technology is foolproof, Carmelita. Besides, at this hour, only the lobby guards are screening people – all technologies rely on the ability of their operators and, let's face it babycakes, government-hired doormen aren't exactly rocket scientists."

"Fair enough, although… neither are you." She pulled the white respirator mask over her muzzle and followed him in.

"Touché."

"Was it difficult to get up there?"

Sly glanced up the outer wall of the building while letting her in then stepped back inside and pulled the door shut behind himself. "There was a fence on the roof. It was humming from electric current so… I had to get over that without touching it… not as easy as it sounds."

"And, yet, here you are."

"Here I am," he said, placing his paws into his pockets. "Let's find the maintenance elevator and make our way down to the bottom of this thing, huh?"

She nodded slowly, looking around the first floor hallway and waxed tile floors. Up ahead, a section of the floor was done in wood then it went back to gleaming tile. "I'm ready to be done with this place already. Just knowing how many people were tortured to death in this building is enough to give me the creeps."

"We can always talk about diamonds again," said Sly, trying to get her to stop thinking about political murder. "In August of 2007, the world's biggest diamond was found in the North-West Province of South Africa. It was sixty-two hundred carats, uncut. Twice the size of the Cullinan. And then… it just disappeared. You can't find anything about it on Google except the initial news reel archived on the internet."

"…Sly, I already don't like where this is going."

"I _didn't_ say I _stole_ it. But the 'buyer' has _never_ been identified." He offered a brilliant smile as they walked through the first floor hallway of the infamous Lubyanka. "After that, this unnamed diamond disappeared off the face of the planet. Funny how things like that happen, huh?" He watched as her ears lowered, which, for some reason, amused him to no end.

* * *

**The information gleaned from Saundra wasn't exactly accurate.** The prison was located on the first floor and continued down, under ground. Despite a map of the building depicting a lack of depth to the structure, they managed to find their way to an elevator that took them down three floors. From that floor, they found another that took them down _ten more_.

Cabling gear and orange cones were stacked neatly to one side. Sly began blocking off hallways with the cones, so as to look like he was doing work. Border Troops offices were upstairs, but here, beneath the very building that housed a prison, a museum and even guided tour areas, was exactly what Sly and Carmelita were searching for.

A door marked, "Oleg Syromolotov," had a fancy emblem on it. It read, "Counterintelligence Service" but was spelled in Cyrillic lettering, which neither Carmelita nor Sly could read.

"Know why they call this the tallest building in Russia?" Sly asked her.

"No." She paused, somewhat curious if he was going to make a joke or tell her a fact. "Why?"

"Because it's the only building where you can see Siberia from its basement."

Carmelita rolled her eyes. "That would make the CIA the tallest building in the _world_, then."

"Yeah, yeah." Sly came across a door that appeared sealed. He put his paw on the knob and felt a strange vibration through it. "What…in the world?"

The vixen approached and placed her palm on the door. At first, she felt nothing but after a few seconds, she felt the vibration. It lasted a few seconds then stopped. Fifteen seconds later, it happened again then stopped. She quirked a brow then placed the side of her head to the door. After a moment of listening to the rhythmic cadence of vibration she chuckled to herself and announced, "The metro line is nearby. You're hearing trains as they pass on the rails."

Cooper grinned brightly. "Well, we now have our escape plan." He opened the binoc-u-com and tried sending a message to Saundra but received static in reply. "I think we're not going to get reception until we're topside again."

"Probably all the lead in the paint. Remember when Saundra answered your question? This building _is_ pretty old, Sly."

He went back to the equipment in the main hallway and picked up a sheet of paper tucked into the cabling rig. It was detailed blueprints to the bottom four floors. He handed them to the vixen and said, "See if you can read these to figure out where the computers are hiding."

"You can't read schematics? These are made to be simple so that a blue-collar worker can …nevermind. You've never worked a day in your life."

"Maybe not _your_ definition of work." Sly grinned at her and waved a paw forward. "To the computers, oh great leader." He fell into step behind her and together the two made their way down the hall and around the corner. He glanced over her shoulder at the paper then looked up at the drop ceiling tiles. Only a few were missing, allowing him to see cables running above them. "So… in here? Allow me." He stepped around her and opened the door.

To Sly Cooper's surprise, a guard just inside the computer room withdrew a Makarov pistol and pointed it the raccoon's face. Across the room, another guard drew up an AK-108 assault rifle, pointing it towards the door. They chattered quickly but the couple didn't understand their words.

"Wrong room, fellas," Sly murmured with his paws up, backing out.

"French?" exclaimed the guard with the pistol. He shouted to his 'tovarich' and the two men began to follow Sly as he backed his way out of the room with Carmelita behind him in a painter's facemask.

"Sly, this is bad," she murmured.

"C'mon, they're sissy guns," Sly said in an attempt to relax her. "We're not looking down the barrel of a Dragunov, sweetheart. This is a huge misunderstanding and they'll figure that out in a second."

The man with the pistol said, "You idiots, I can understand you words," in a thick dialect. His French was well pronounced and intelligible, despite his Russian accent. "My 'sissy' gun needs not be a Snayperskaya Vintovka to kill you, _spies_!"

"Whoa, hold up," said Sly. "We are _not_ spies. I don't _care_ about espionage."

The man with the rifle approached from a flanking position, now to the left side of the doorway. "He is famous thief, Georgi…" he said, pronouncing the name like, 'Yourgi.' He kept the assault rifle at shoulder level, gazing down the iron sights. "Look at his face – it is Sly Cooper! He was arrested at the Kremlin only recently; held over night!" The rifleman directed his next statement to Sly. "I read a lot; a thief is just as bad as a spy! Tell us why are you here, or must we take you to a room upstairs and interrogate you? Those rooms have not been used for some time, comrade Cooper so let's make it easy and have you tell us what you are doing here, while you are at gunpoint?"

Sly glanced behind himself at Carmelita then back at 'Georgi' and the man with the rifle. "Well, wow. They _both_ speak French… who would have thought?"

"And furthermore," said the man with the pistol, "The FSB does not use the Dragunov. We use the VKS and VSS silenced automatic sniper rifles. Vykhlop. Perhaps we'll show them to you via a firing squad."

"Now, now," said Sly, keeping his paws up. "No need to get hostile. I don't even _use_ guns. I'm here to stop the United States CIA from gaining control of a satellite weapon. You wouldn't want them to use that thing on _you_, would'ja? I think we should put those guns down and talk things out. Look, I have a walking cane on me, let me show you so that no one gets excited." And, slowly, he withdrew his cane from the back of his belt. He held it by the fulcrum and showed them the golden 'C' shaped hook at the top. "Everything is cool, right?"

The rifleman switched off his weapon's safety and pointed the barrel at Sly's face. "I have much better idea, Georgi. We kill these two now and let the think tank figure out their reasoning later on. He is a filthy thief – infamous or not, he's no good."

The man with the pistol lifted his sidearm and fished a noise suppresser barrel from his other pocket. He screwed it on then turned and fired the weapon. The man with the rifle dropped to the ground with a glistening red bullet hole directly above his left eyebrow. Georgi turned back to Sly and Carmelita and calmly spoke in English. "I know you two understand me. Just as I know your friend, there, isn't a man under that mask. Listen, you two, I just blew my cover as a once-in-a-lifetime-favor to Saundra Moore. Mister Cooper, I don't appreciate you saying the CIA would steal the Zeus Cannon and use it against Russia. They're our allies, now. Things are different."

Carmelita pulled the mask off and snapped at him. "If they're so different than why does the CIA still need moles in place with the FSB? We appreciate you killing that guy before he took things too far… but we're not ready to trust the CIA, either."

"The CIA doesn't even have the ability to take control of that satellite. Anyway, get out of here. Tell Saundra _Georgi says hello_."

Sly turned back to the vixen and frowned. "He's really out of the loop, hun. He probably doesn't get stateside updates very often." He glanced back at the man with the pistol and said, "The CIA has half of the Zeus codes, the FSB has the other half. Saundra was suspended because the agency has its own agenda and they're in league with the bad guys now, out in the Atlantic Ocean. We're not sure this dude is a 'bad guy' so to speak… but he's definitely _not_ a good person."

Georgi eyed Cooper for a moment then shook his head. "I can't verify what you're telling me. Just get the hell out of here."

"We need a code off the computers in the room you're guarding," said Sly. "Then we're going to blast our way out the door around the corner and leave through the metro line. And you're going to let us because you've just shot the other guard."

"Your diplomacy skills suck. Stick to sneaking around in the shadows." He leaned his head out into the hallway then pulled Sly in by the wrist. Carmelita followed them into the room. Georgi stood guard at the doorway with his pistol at the ready. "You better hurry."

Sly and Carmelita rushed to the nearest computer terminal and inserted the flash drive, just as they had done before, back at Langley, earlier in the day. Carmelita moved to the keyboard but the layout wasn't what she was used to. She began clicking on things until she stumbled upon the preferences menu. Upon changing the language setting to 'Spanish', the keys on the keyboard changed as well. It was then that she realized that each key was a tiny LCD screen. She began typing furiously.

Sly, glad that Georgi had no idea they'd just broken into the CIA building earlier, moved adjacent to the Inspector, watching her work. "Hey, you're pretty good at this."

"Shut up. I'm just doing what was done earlier. I want to get out of here. Figure out how to get that door open."

Sly nodded and turned back to Georgi. "That door to the metro is sealed. Is there any way to blow it open?"

"It's not welded shut or anything like that; it simply hasn't been used in ages. Just blast it open with a little force and it'll open right up. Listen, this room isn't surveillance-free. What we've just done on film won't be reviewed until tonight. So I have to go with you and get out of here, too." He picked up the assault rifle and holstered the pistol. "Someone saw what we've done… what you're doing and what I've done to my co-worker… let's hurry so I can get out of this dump."

"Got it," Carmelita announced. A gunshot caused her ears to flicker. She turned just in time to see Georgi began crumbling to his knees. Her eyes widened. She ripped the flash drive out of the front of the terminal and pocketed it. "Sly…! Was he just…?"

Cooper nudged him over with a toe and nodded, seeing the bullet hole in the man's face. He looked round pensively. "Yeah… there's blood… he was definitely just shot by someone."

"Dios mio," she groused, backing towards Sly. "Stay low," she said, guiding him towards the wall adjacent to the doorway. Her ears perked up and she heard footfalls out in the hallway. Then silence. She gestured with her paws to tell him they were surrounded outside.

"This isn't good," he whispered softly.

"I want a family."

He blinked incredulously. "Pardon?"

"You ran out of my life to stop Clockwerk. It won't be that easy. It might not happen as quickly as you'd like. It might take an army of Coopers to defeat this one… Whatever. But _I_ want a family. I want both of us to live through this so… don't you _dare_ go dying today."

"I hadn't planned on dying, Carmelita. For us to have a family, we would have to…"

"…I know," she interjected but in a softer voice. "We're not getting any younger. I don't want to be a sixty-year-old woman raising teenagers, so we need to think about something now. Promise me you won't die."

"I promise. This isn't going to be easy… are you ready?"

She withdrew the two guns given to her by Saundra earlier in the day. "I don't want to take life away – I want to create life… but at this point… it's them or it's me and _I am not_ going down without a fight."

"That's my girl." Sly eased his foot forward, pulling the AK-108 assault rifle away from Georgi's motionless paw. "Damn it's sad he went and got himself killed."

"Sly…" She nodded towards the doorway. "Are you ready?"

"You wanna go out tonight and take a break from all of this?"

She offered him a slight smile but it was one that appeared full of promise. "Sly… we're staring death in the face. They're not rushing in here because they know we're armed… we're not rushing out there because we know they're armed. It's a standoff… And even though I know we could both die at any minute… all I can think of is that I'm ready to take a break and have a family. It's been on my mind on-and-off since before you up and left. I'm at that age where it feels natural to wanna' focus on that. You get us out of here alive… and I'll make it worth your while tonight."

Sly stood there, listening to her words and taking it all in. He licked his lips slowly, nodded in an almost pensive way then quietly said, "I want you to cover me. I promise, this will be the _last_ stupid thing I ever do. But it's going to take team work to pull this off."

She nodded, took a deep breath and said. "I'm ready when you are." After a rather short pause, she added, "I love you."

The left corner of Cooper's muzzle tugged into a grin. "I love you too… say it again; I liked hearing that."

A smirk touched her features. "Get us out of here alive and you'll have earned it."

A nod was offered to the vixen. He carefully hefted Georgi's form up and propped the man. "Sorry, buddy. The CIA appreciates your service, even if your fate is to become nothing more than some star on a wall without having your name mentioned in that little book in the lobby. Saundra said she didn't wanna wind up in that thing, so she probably appreciates you doing this _for_ her." Cooper put his shoulder against the dead man's torso then heaved Georgi through the doorway.

As expected, audio-suppressed gunshots came to life. The body was hit with so many rounds before it could hit the wall across the hallway that it appeared to be juggled with bullets, hovering momentarily as if it were a puppet on invisible strings. Sly lost count and whispered to her, "It was over thirty shots but some of them are using auto fire."

Carmelita swallowed back disgust, keeping her back to the wall with the two pistols pointed forty-five degrees upward. She nodded to his statement but said nothing. Another gunshot caused her left ear to flicker listlessly then she heard metallic scraping on the floor tiles from one of the men kicking Georgi's Makarov away. She offered a moue of disgust, assuming that last gunshot was to the head.

Sly offered two quick nods. It was 'go time'. He hyper-focused himself using the ancient Cooper technique written about in the family book. Time appeared to slow down around him as he moved out of the door. He put a foot on Georgi's body then his next foot on the nearest guard who was kneeling over the dead CIA mole. Sly squeezed the trigger of the assault rifle…

* * *

…_Several __**months**__ later__… _

**"…And that's the last time I ever held a Russian assault rifle. **Like I always said, 'I'll take a cane over a gun any day.' Guns just… they're not my thing.**"** Sly turned to Carmelita Fox and placed his left paw on her slightly extended tummy. "I have a wife and a future child to think about, now. We have a name picked out already; we think it's going to be a girl because of how she carries it and what the ultra-sound looks like."

Chief Barkley nodded his head slowly then glanced back at the Inspector. "Well, how has maternity leave gone for you? I remember back when you would race to the assignment board every Monday morning."

A grin illuminated her face. "Chief, that feels like it was _years_ ago." She ran a paw back through her hair and said, "Ironic isn't it? You're my mentor, Chief… you gave me the Cooper case and sent me to India, where I met him. This whole thing should never have ended this way… with me pregnant and married," she said, lifting her left paw to display the ring set. She chuckled in spite of herself. "How in the heck did it happen like _this_, right?"

The older man's eyes shifted back to Sly. "You better not get your 'memories' back, kid. The day you go back to your old ways of stealing… let's just say it won't be good. So what name did you guys choose if it is, in fact, a girl?"

"Carmen," Carmelita said. "I told Sly he gets to name the second one if that ever happens. Although, right now, I'm content to stick with _one_ for the rest of my days."

Sly chuckled. "She'll want more."

"Oh, you think so?" said Barkley.

"Gut feeling," replied Sly with a nod. "Anyway, back to the story, we were happy and out of contact with the CIA members until this morning. Trust me, we were _both_ surprised to have them show up on our doorstep."

"I'm afraid I have limited access to police gear until the new office is finished. I can requisition some…"

Carmelita lifted a paw. "No, Chief. Thank you but… Anyway, when this last bit is finished… we want to move east to the mountains. I can take the bullet train into Lyon so I can work a few days a week but… after this hot mess is finished, I don't want to be an _inspector_ anymore. I'd rather do something else for ICPO at this rate."

"Seriously?" The chief blinked at her. "I thought detecting crime was your life's passion."

"I enjoy the research _and_ the action… but I'll be a mother and don't want to be in the field anymore. I have to stay alive; I want to raise my baby." She glanced at Sly and added, "Or …even _babies_."

"I understand," said the Chief with a slight frown. "Well, what about becoming a research analyst? You could do lab work, some field work but stay out of the line-of-fire."

Another smile illuminated the vixen's face. "That would be wonderful. But promise me you won't take away my firing range privileges. You know, even though I won't keep any in the house while the children are young… I still like my guns."

"I can appreciate that." The chief gave Carmelita a hug and said, "I'll have your office all set up by the time you're ready to return to work. Are you _sure_ you want to work with these Americans one last time?"

"I'm ready to close this thing out. It's been months since we had to run through a dark underground metro tunnel, dodging trains and bullets beneath the streets of Moscow. Seriously though, Chief… I appreciate your understanding. I don't know where I'll be, y'know, over the next few days and I don't know when I'll get back to work. But yeah… finishing this whole thing is just… it's something I need to do, sir."

"Don't _sir_ me, young lady. When we're off the clock, we're family." The two cops relinquished their hug. He turned to Sly and shook the raccoon's paw. "You treat her right, son. Or her father will fly up here from Panama and the two of us will flatten you, kid."

"I'll treat her right. And I will keep her safe while we're dealing with this Clockwerk situation. I'm actually surprised he surfaced again. I thought for sure he'd stay below ground and off everyone's radar once he found out that we got the codes to that satellite."

"Be glad it hasn't been shot down by America or the Russians. Yet."

Sly nodded in agreement. "They want it, that's why." He intertwined his forearm with Carmelita's, right at her elbow. "Thanks for everything, Mister B., I'll bring her back unscathed when this blows over. Take care of yourself and stay low just in case things get crazy again."

"I'll do that." He released Sly's paw and watched them get to their feet. They exchanged brief pleasantries then he watched as Sly and Carmelita left his office. They closed the door to his small room.

The aging chief sighed with a shake of his head. "God I hope those two realize just how much danger they're getting themselves back into by not walking away from all of this."

"You did really well, Barkley," said a woman. She stood up from beneath his desk, with a pistol trained on him. "You don't understand… things are quite complicated right now. I _need_ those two involved and I know you would have forbid her because she's a few months pregnant. But I need those two. And if you tell them _anything_, I'll be back to pull the trigger at our next meeting." Cleopatra kept the weapon trained on him while backing up to his office window. "You did a fine acting job, by the way. I'm glad you let her take that extended maternity leave."

"Like I had a choice," growled the older man. "Just get out of my office. I should have you arrested for pointing a weapon at a law officer."

"I'd kill you in a heartbeat," said replied proudly. "You won't do anything unless I _tell_ you to do it. Now, continue to be a good boy for me; do everything I tell you to do just like before. If you stay out of my way and stay out of Carmelita Cooper's way… just like last season… then you'll be fine and she'll walk away from all of this relatively unscathed. Comprendé?"

He sighed with a huff. "Fine. Just leave. I didn't hinder Carmelita _last time_ you forced me into this situation and I won't again. You're not going to make me assign her to some remote island in the middle of nowhere again, are you?"

"No, this time you're just lying low and giving her an extended paid vacation. I'm keeping my eye on you so don't even pretend to tell anyone about our arrangements."

"Listen, I played your game last time… have some faith in me; I've done enough to earn your damn trust by now," said Barkley with a shake of his head. "Now… _get out_ of my office."

She dove through the window behind him and was gone in a flash. After things got quiet for a moment, he turned around in his large swivel chair only to find the window was still ajar. He swallowed with a sigh and shook his head. "If that woman gets my protégé killed, I'll hunt her down the old fashion way. So help me, God."

* * *

**A/N**: _I have several reasons for jumping forward in time so suddenly. For one, I don't want to reveal everything about what happened in Moscow yet. xD _

_That gets a flashback scene! TWO! Another flashback will lead up to the conception of Carmen and the wedding of Sly and Carmelita. Yes, I'll write it. I don't write many weddings, y'know? _

_Also, we see why Chief Barkley gave Carmelita the assignment back at the beginning of the story! Because Cleo forced his paw. More on that later. Just know that she's doing it again. _

_I'm sorry it's taken so long to get back to this story. Things have been busy, y'know? I'm touring with a Japanese Rock Band who play in the Visual Kei genere; they needed a drummer after their dude quit. I'm still playing with my other two bands and… it's been busy. After John Settino passed in April, I had decided to take a short break from StarFox. For those of you who didn't follow my Reflections of Regret story or don't follow me on FaceBook ( "Kit Karamak" ) and have no idea what I'm talking about, he was my best friend and the guitarist of my old band, A BREAK IN CHAOS. Anyway, he was also a fan of my Reflections stories involving Marcus McCloud. He passed from Cystic Fibrosis at the age of 24. _

_So anyway, being a single dad, a gamer, in three bands, recording and touring, maintaining a relationship and re-reading through the Sly Cooper trilogy has been a SUMMER-LONG EVENT. My bad! That's the longest hiatus I've ever taken from writing and it was AWFUL. Writing is my outlet! By taking a summer away from what I love to do the most… my metabolism got jacked up, my brain turned to mush, I'm unable to focus… I have too much stuff I need to get out of my head. LOL_

_Seriously, though, I hate not writing. I won't do THAT ever again. D:_

_Anyone who is still reading this story… THANK YOU! I appreciate it!_

_Sorry if I made you re-read stuff to catch up. I suck, I know! I'll make it up to you somehow! _


	22. Mamacita

A/N: _Yeah, baby, I'm back in action! Short chapter, huh? xD

* * *

_

Chapter -22-  
"_Mamacita_"

**Carmelita Fox narrowed her gaze.** She glanced back at Sly who had an equally dumbfound expression then cut her amber hues back upon the visage of a middle-aged skunk. "You."

"Steven," he said.

"Niall," she added, pronouncing his name like, 'Neil.' She ground her teeth together. "Fine… Steven is what I'll call you, but don't think I'm in the dark about you."

The skunk folded his paws, sitting on the Cooper family sofa in her living room. He tilted his head, looking up at the couple that had just come in through their front door. "You know me, do you? What is it that you know?"

"You're a prodigious savant a mnemonist, speed reading lightning calculator who also has the abilities of language absorption with eidetic memory skills. You were born autistic but managed to become 'normalized' after a head injury at some point in your past, yet you kept your incredible mental capacity. You eventually figured out how to repair the genetics to stop your body from aging… oh, and you're the original inventor of Clockwerk. Your 'clone' built the current version. If you're here to beg us not to destroy that pest, despite your supposed 'age', then you can just move along."

Steven leaned back in the sofa cushions and smiled. "My dear girl, you actually know more about me than I realized. I'm impressed. And to think I viewed you as trite, boring and bogged down by your emotions."

"Hey," said Sly, cutting in. He paused for a moment then looked at Carmelita. "Well… the emotional part is a little accurate but…" he glanced back at the skunk and added, "She's _not_ boring."

"Gee, you tell'em honey," grumbled the vixen.

"Indeed." Steven unfolded his paws and placed them on his knees, looking up at them both with a slight smile. "I'm not here to dissuade you from chasing down that blunder of a creation. I'm here to make sure you do it properly. Do you remember when I approached you in the sewer?" (A/N: _end of Lament_)

"I do," said the vulpine cop with a tilt of her head. "Why?"

"I came to help; more is at stake here than you realize. Clockwerk's destruction is imperative. What these others are planning must be stopped. I've decided to devote myself to ensuring they are not successful. Even if I have to help you. Even if I have to help your children. Even if I have to help your grandchildren… I will do what I must to keep these fools from gathering these artifacts and using them the way in which they intend. I've done a mathematical equation to see if my method of destroying Clockwerk will work – the equation checks out."

Sly rubbed his head with a paw. "Bentley does that stuff… how in the heck do you use numbers to figure out how you can kill a machine that is supposedly indestructible?"

"Your wife mentioned a great deal about me but failed to note that I'm also plagued with mathematical synesthesia. Numbers appear in various colors and patterns and each equation is something of an experience that can even invoke lucid dreams. It is from these experiences that I am able to discover and unlock the mysteries of the universe."

Carmelita furrowed her brows. "You mean like… bio-engineering your genes to stop you from aging in a time when technology was something forged by a blacksmith?"

"…Something like that," said Steven with a slight nod. "I believe you underestimate technological ingenuity of the past, as does every historian and archeologist. At any rate, I've determined how best to take Clockwerk apart. Unfortunately, his destruction requires him to be in his large body that was made by my silly clone. I'm here to tell you that he's already in that body as of last night. The small one was destroyed when he transferred himself back into the larger one."

"WHAT!" Carmelita's eyes widened. Her husband frowned and folded his arms. Meanwhile, she threw her arms up in the air and said, "HOW did THAT happen? Who screwed up?"

"Calm down, Mrs. Cooper. He's an intelligent computer and, with time and planning, he found a way. Whether or not these idiots with the artifacts could have used the large body to 'host a demon'… I can't be sure but it seems laughable. However, if their claims are true, it's better to have Clockwerk inhabit that body, don't you think? Now we can focus on his destruction. I'll walk you through it."

"How?" asked Sly.

"An increasing disorder in his hardware can put him past all exertion for the space of a moment. If it is exploited, a paroxysm of this malady will carry him off at your discretion."

Carmelita glanced at Sly then slowly approached Steven. "Did you… intend to speak in such a way? You were speaking perfectly fine a moment ago."

"I seldom draw from archaic linguistic patterns; at most I do it with but a few words spoken. My conception is so strong, that whatever I had once strictly observed in a part of my past, stamped itself so firmly in my memory that, on occasion, and often a considerable time afterwards I represent it with entire fidelity. On such occasions I look now and then, as it were, into myself; and when at these moments, I lift my head to speak, my eyes have something dreamy in them." In fact, he did appear to be intoxicated at the moment. "It comes and it passes. I assure you that such is rare and one of my few shortcomings." Then, all at once, he changed his speech patterns again. "My clone adopted his own speech anomaly. He spoke in archaic format when becoming emotional. Strange, huh?"

The vixen's left ear flickered in annoyance. "Did you just say, 'huh?' After all that eloquent speaking, you ended on a '_huh_?' You _are_ strange." Carmelita sat down on the sofa adjacent to him then motioned for Sly to relax. "Listen, I have a very good reason for not trusting you. I was told that in an alternative timeline, you are the reason that nearly everyone was killed. You murdered Penelope, Murray and others. That means you're capable of _such things_ and… I don't know the situation but… whatever it was, I do _not_ _want_ to trust you."

"Fascinating." He saw Carmelita narrow her gaze and lifted his paws defensively. "I only mean that I can't understand how I would have been capable of 'such things' to use your wording. Know that I've only killed people when I saw them as standing in my way; if I perceive them as a threat to stopping me from obtaining and destroying these artifacts, they must die. They're not dying needlessly… their death is so that innocent others may live. I speak of the _end of all things_. I wish to keep that from happening."

"You kill people that you think will lead to the deaths of the rest of the world?"

Steven devolved his speech pattern again. "Even the most applauded of valiant heroes are to be declared as falsely celebrated if they step in the path of my righteousness. A mortal roadblock shall never obtain my approbation." He paused and looked away then rubbed his temples. "This rarely occurs – my speech, I mean. But when it does, it lasts a day or two at a time. Just know that the both of you have become a favorite subject of my heroic attempt to save the world. I have reckoned myself, not unjustly, better able to delineate these tasks than even celebrated heroes have been. Moreover, next to my intercourse with science, my greatest joy is in looking for ways to find and destroy these artifacts. That would give me the most satisfaction. And, so, you've both been recruited to suit my purposes."

Sly leaned towards Carmelita and whispered, "Did he just say 'intercourse… with science'?"

"Not how you think he meant it," she murmured in reply to her husband.

Cooper offered his wife a sidelong glare. "He means a passionate relationship with science. I've just never heard it worded as 'intercourse'. I'm not dumb, you know." He grinned at her. She grinned back. Sly added, "You wouldn't have married me if I was dumb."

"Too true." She nodded back towards the skunk; he was waiting for them to conclude their private conversation. A weak smile touched the vixen's muzzle. "We're finished. Sorry."

"How far along is your pregnancy?"

Carmelita glanced down but she was wearing clothing that made it impossible to tell. Her head lifted once more and she asked, "What makes you think I'm with child?"

The skunk sniffed at the air then nodded decisively. "You are. How far along?"

"Second trimester," she murmured.

"You've experienced the quickening yet?"

Carmelita quirked her brows at him but replied with a nod. "Why are you so curious? You're not going to act weird …are you?"

"My dear, I'm _delighted_ that you're quick with child. I merely wish to infer when coitus took place?"

Carmelita lifted a paw as if about to slap him, her jaw dropped and she froze. After taking a moment to gather her wits, she took a slow breath and said, "None of your business." After a brief pause, she murmured, "asshole," under her breath and lowered her paw.

"Why does it matter?" asked Sly.

Steven looked up, smirked and quoted an old comedy from the eighties. "Back off, man. I'm a scientist."

Carmelita lowered her face into her paw. "Jesus." She looked back up at Steven, shook her head and paraphrased from the same movie. "You're acting more like a game-show host."

"Touché." He grinned up at Sly and asked, "Does she always have such quick comebacks?"

"Yeah." He nodded firmly then asked, "So why does it matter when she conceived?"

"Everything about life is of scientific interest to me. I didn't mean to upset anyone or pry in your personal affairs. But it's no secret… to have a child, you must engage in sexual copulation. I was simply curious about when the deed occurred to best guess when the child will come."

Carmelita looked embarrassed and almost exasperated. Sly told the man, "We're not sure which time, okay? This is an awkward subject for her unless it's with a doctor or me. Just give it a rest."

"I am a doctor," said Steven.

"I built up trust and rapport with my chosen doctor," said Carmelita, adding, "Like Sly said… give it a rest. It happened shortly before the wedding. Anything else? You let yourself into our house to tell us how to destroy Clockwerk and confirm that I'm knocked up. Is there _anything else_?"

"I'll be in contact with you shortly," said Steven. He stood up, walked across the room to the front door then glanced over his shoulder at them. "Don't announce your pregnancy to the public. Clockwerk may be beyond his feelings of emotion and hatred for the Cooper Clan, but he still sees the Cooper family as his enemy because they have always sought his destruction. He'll view a child of Sly Cooper as the next level of the Cooper war against him and assess the fetus as a threat then he will attempt to destroy you, Carmelita Cooper. And your baby. Continue to keep this news private for now." He opened the door and stepped out of the cottage. "Meet me in the morning before you meet with the CIA." Sly locked the deadbolt once he was gone. Even though it was a useless gesture, she nodded in appreciation of the lock being slid into place.

* * *

_The next morning… Marseille, France_

**Carmelita Cooper watched in the mirror** as her husband slid out of bed. She had a curling iron in her paws in the private master bathroom. Standing at her designated sink, she watched him move ungracefully to the toilet then chuckled. He was never a morning person.

After a moment, he put the lid back down on the toilet, flushed it and approached his wife from behind, careful to give her space with the hot curling iron. He gazed over her shoulder into the mirror and smiled; she wore a piece of golden floral filigree where she normally had her badge. "Oye, mamacita, que buena estás. You're serious about meeting with Stevie the Wonder-Brain? Where? He never even gave us a place."

"I don't know, Sly. Your Spanish is getting better but you should keep practicing your pickup lines. If he wants to meet so bad, it'll happen before I get to the CIA checkpoint."

"Which is where?"

"The coffee shop."

Sly sighed with a shake of his head and stepped back away from her. "Cops and their donuts, I swear. Coffee and donuts for a secret cop meeting spot? I mean, seriously… _that_ is where you guys plan to meet? No joking?"

"Scout's honor," she murmured, applying the finishing touches to her hair. "You coming?"

"I'll pass. I'm not the _coffee and donut_ type."

"Suit yourself."

Cooper grinned. "I think I will," he told her, nodding towards a fashionable suit hung up over by the second sink. He noted the roll of her eyes and told her, "I can't help you said it… I just had to roll with it."

"Yeah, you do that." She unplugged the iron and set it in the sink to cool then turned to face him with a quick kiss. "I'll see you after the meetings. Behave." She left the combined master bedroom and bathroom area and, moments later, the front door slammed shut.

Outside, Steven was waiting for her. The black and white skunk was absolutely well dressed and groomed this morning. Silk silver poured from his scalp around his face; flaunting the alabastrine dermis. A single silver monocle entrenched over his right emerald hue; the left eye was bare. Inverted collar donned a black bind that strayed to the border of his neck. He had a heavy looking tailed jacket, which coddled his body, looking to hide the vest and shirt beneath. The petticoat had shiny gold-trimmed buttons adorned with crystalline figures etched into the surface of the fancy fastenings, each dancing of equanimity. Charcoal leather gloves cloaked his extremities, their unseen insides worn from constant use. He had pin-stripe pants, belled at the bottom to accommodate large albino boots.

"You look straight out of _last century_," she murmured. "But at least you clean up well. What's with this meeting?" Her eyes lifted to the overcast sky then returned to his visage.

"Follow me," he replied. Together, they walked down the path from the cottage until arriving at a descending hill. She followed him down the over-grown path until they emerged near the sparkling sea. Waves crashed against a nearby cliff. She glanced up, able to see the backside of her cottage high above. With both dressed so eloquently, she followed him out onto a large flat rock and folded her arms.

"Well?" She abruptly unfolded her arms and put her paws on her hips.

"Be patient," said Steven. "What you see falls under the category of your other supernatural acquaintances. Let's keep their known existence to a minimum, please." The clouds cleared and sunshine sparkled down over them as if in a fairytale. "Mm, mercurial weather we're having, is it not?"

"I suppose." Carmelita re-folded her paws together in front of herself. Her eyes rest on the whitecaps as she stood on the granite slab, listening to the cadence of the sea. "Mercurial is more of a word to describe Sly – both definitions: Erratic _and _of the characteristics of Mercury – eloquence, shrewdness, swiftness and, of course, thievishness." Quite suddenly, her brows furrowed, catching a hint of a blue tail disappear back beneath the depths. She craned her neck and squinted her eyes, trying to get another glimpse of whatever was out in the water.

Steven placed his paws on her shoulders and guided her back a few steps. The currents within the ocean's depth danced around sporadically. "Be glad you were sound of mind in regards to your somatic appearance this morning. She's not judgmental but appreciates when we look our best."

"Excuse me?"

He smiled somewhat. "Shh, just watch." The waters swirled almost violently, a trap for anyone pressing the urge to enter the aquatic domain of their incoming visitor. A body rose from the sea. Pale skin, frigid as the burgs of the northern waters, glowed ethereal as the sun's rays pierced the crystalline surface. Voluptuous curves exceeding all standards of beauty, enrapturing any by sight and the sound of her people's songs sweetly passing ruby painted lips. The visitor glided through the water with ease, her tail commanding the currents to propel her through the water as a blade across flesh. Seeming magic poured across the waves, glamour enhancing the shore to the peak of its majesty. The crest of her forehead broke the waters and with it parted the waves to unveil the sea-maiden as dry as the onlookers offshore. She stood tall from the parting waves, riding out from the sea with the waves ushering her heels.

Carmelita's eyes lowered from her place on the rock to the enchanted woman, down below. Her amber hues raked over the incoming woman's build then returned to the mermaid's visage, drinking in every detail. She glanced beyond the captivating woman to the wake behind her, watching as she cut a swath through the water as easily as a leviathan plows the brine. "Impressive," murmured Carmelita under her breath.

The mythical creature's foot pressed into the sand-tipped stone and, in reaction, the sea retracted back to its origins leaving a fine mist struggling to resist the final touch of her magic as the wave departed.

As if something was peeling the very air from around her, leather instantly painted itself over scale-dusted legs, forming thigh-high heeled boots of excellent quality and shine. Jewelry graced her naked chest, thick chains of white gold and precious gems peppered themselves across her fingers and earfins. Hips rolled hypnotically as she walked across the large flat stone with similar grace to her prior feat of swimming in the water's caress. She appeared nonchalant as her clothes just painted themselves over her body, flowing with the oncoming wind that blew the thick sleeves of her tunic and the full ringlets of ocean-colored hair behind her. Her lips lilted at the edges as she held contact with the other woman. Her tail slashed at the wind as light from above sent a blinding image of purples, blues and greens at any who became too entranced by the siren's beauty.

Carmelita glanced quickly back at Steven who appeared unaffected by the fact a woman just waltzed out of the sea. She turned back to the stunning aquatic woman. The morning personified into an immortal being of delicate and faultless features. Loose flowing curls reflected the sun's rays, spilling over her shoulders. Lips that shamed the red, red rose contrasted from the garb of silken riches; an elegant, short-in-front gown, with a chapel train that draped over the blue tail behind her. Her elven ears were decorated with multiple earrings, bottom ones being dangly suns. Star designs were scattered about on the backs of her hands. She was nothing like artistic depictions of the typical mermaid.

Steven approached her and kissed her knuckles. "Idona, a pleasure to see you again after all this time."

"Mm, 'ello, Love," she said in a thick accented tongue. "It be quite a number of years, aye? I received your message." She glanced back at Carmelita with a demure smile. "Who is your lady friend?" After hearing Steven's dialect, she began to adapt her speech pattern to match his.

"The wife of the latest Cooper clan member. You _do_ remember the Cooper Order, don't you?"

"I do, indeed, remember sweet Sir Galleth, knight and leader of the Cooper Order. He retrieved my stolen Mother Pearl of the Ocean." She nodded to Carmelita and said, "Congratulations for winning the heart of a Cooper, darling." Her eyes flitted back to Steven's. "What brings us here this morning?"

"Thank you for coming all this way," said the skunk. He glanced at Carmelita and said, "Oceans cover more of the planet than land. A great deal more, in fact. Global networks would catch a being the likes of Clockwerk if he flew over a city or a populated area but… Idona could find him anywhere else on the globe with ease."

"Indeed, Mrs. Cooper." She stood on the sand at the edge of the rock. The surf swirled about her boots, the sand rushing away beneath them. She offered a brilliant smile. "I knew another Cooper in person… Henriette Cooper. The mortal sailors of the day called her, 'One Eye.' She used her innate ability to 'smell gold' and helped me to recover a lost broach. That's twice the Cooper clan has come to my aid in the past."

"So you can tell us where Clockwerk is?"

"Indeed, I can."

"But you couldn't find your pearl and your gold without help?"

Steven looked terrified to hear Carmelita act in an insulting manner but Idona laughed in spite of the vixen's ignorance. Her laughter was akin to silvery petals dancing forth from the siren's tongue. "Darling dear, in your mortal foxen ways, you don't know of which you speak. It is of no worry, though. Know that when I look up at a ship, I cannot see inside of it. But when I gaze up at the silhouette of Clockwerk in the sky, there is no mistaking him. In his original form, his old form or his current form, Clockwerk is easy to distinguish anywhere in the world so long as there is water below him. His current location has been in the Atlantic Ocean as of late." She approached Carmelita and clasped either side of the vixen's face gently. "I believe you've been there once before. Your mortal acquaintances took you there."

"The Atlantis Dome," she muttered. "But why there?"

"Perhaps he has a score to settle? I cannot be sure." She kept her palms on Carmelita's cheeks.

"Y…you're not going to try and kiss me are you?"

Again, delighted laughter swam like a song from the mermaid's lips. "Kiss you? My dear, my people make it a habit never to 'kiss' our _food_." She stepped back with a mysterious smile and curtsied to them both. "I have a feeling our paths may cross again one day soon." She backed up to the sandy edge of the flat rock and winked at Steven. "And, of course, as always… I'll see you again, my friend." A large wave emerged from the sea. Carmelita leapt from the rock, back towards higher ground. The wave came down, splashing across the rock with a resounding crash. The vixen glanced back but the other woman was gone.

She glared at Steven and sighed. "You have some really strange friends."

"Indeed I do. Now you know of Clockwerk's most recent sighting. Go on and speak to the CIA. I'll speak with Sly then take my leave for now. I'll resurface when those artifacts resurface. It may be a while before either of you see me again. Let's hope it stays that way. Take care."

Carmelita quirked a brow then made her way back towards the ascending path, up the hill and to her driveway. She never looked back, half-wanting to put the last fifteen minutes out of her mind. It was too strange of an occurrence and she didn't want to dwell on such strange, mythical things.

* * *

_Monaco, France_…

**Carmelita arrived in town** and made her way to a café and settled at a table with a briefcase and laptop computer. No sooner had she opened it, Saundra Moore and Jacob White approached her. They took seats adjacent to the vixen, looking pleasant. White offered the vixen a rather special smile. "I came all the way from Saint-Laurent-du-Var, this morning… and what do I find? There is a _wedding ring_ on your _finger_. I'm crushed, Carmelita."

"Get over yourself," she murmured disdainfully. "I can't please a damn one of you."

"Male foxes?" asked White with a chuckle. "How do you mean? Because 'he' is a Procyon Lotor? What other male fox would be upset over such?"

"Like my father?" She snorted. "No one's happy that I married a raccoon. Racist vulpine bastards – every one of you."

Before Jacob could inquire, Saundra turned to him and said, "Her father moved out of France after the wedding. He's back in Panama, now."

Jake nodded then turned back to Carmelita with a smile. "Well, I can't win'em all. Plenty of French Vixens in Monte Carlo. None as fiery as a Latina like yourself, but… I'll make due. See, French women aren't always very nice to American men like myself."

Carmelita tilted her head. "Aren't you supposed to be dead by now from a terminal condition?" Her words caused Saundra to wince but AJ took it in stride and shrugged. The vixen tilted her head back the other way. An errant midnight tendril of her bangs came down to frame her cheek. "Unless you want another tampon shoved into your torso, I suggest you act like a proper gentleman. I know you're capable of it. I'm a lady and I demand respect. Miss Moore may tolerate your chauvinistic outlook on women but I do _not_." Her paw came to rest atop of her belly without even thinking about it. Moore was the only one to notice.

She turned to AJ and said, "Change of plan, White. Go get us some coffee and a pastry or ten." She waited until he left then turned back to Carmelita and said, "You're _pregnant_? How the hell are you going to help us finish this nonsense with a baby onboard?"

"Get off your high horse," said the Inspector. "I'm quite capable." She cut her gaze towards the les façades de Monaco in the background. The buildings appeared layered along the mountainside in a beautiful way. It calmed her. "Miss Moore…" she lowered her tone and spoke in a more personal way, "Saundra… we've worked together before and I proved myself capable. Don't tell AJ I'm pregnant. I don't want him to judge me. Foxes can, sometimes, be a racist clique. It would be okay for him to sleep with, say… _you_, but having children with someone other than a vixen would be out of the question for him. I don't want to hear any racist comments about my baby so… just… let it be, okay?"

"Fair enough." She shook her head at the Inspector and sighed. "If you get yourself killed, you're harming more than just yourself. You have a baby to think about."

Carmelita reached across the table and took the agent's shirt in her fist, right beneath the woman's throat. "I know you could flip me around and kill me if you wanted right now. But you won't because I'm an expectant mother. So, guess what? I've got your shirt in my fist, right at the neckscruff. Guess what else? I'll throw you right into that window over there _unless_ you _drop the issue_. I'm fine and I'm ready to do the same job any of your male agents could do…_while_ wearing high heels. So… let's talk about the Atlantis Dome."

"There's not much to talk about on that front," said Saundra, reaching for Carmelita's wrist. She gently gestured the feisty vixen to release her shirt before AJ would see. She smoothed her shirt out just in time for him to return with coffee and lunch for everyone. Moore cleared her throat and frowned. "Why do you ask about that place, anyhow?"

"Because that's where our little friend is flying around. Ever thought to use a satellite and look for him? Even just once?" Saundra narrowed her gaze. "If he's there, I'm surprised and, at the same time, I'm impressed by your source."

"Well, my source is pretty damn impressive, sister. So, that's where we're going one last time. We'll give AJ another day to look around for a two-bit flea-ridden whore to call his playmate… then we'll all head to Florida, charter a private yacht and go 'scuba diving' for _fun_. And that's if we _don't_ find him flying around like an idiot. After all, I _personally_ saw him chained up in that dome once already. So I know they're capable of catching him. We'll shoot him down and call it a day. Then I'm breaking ties with you people for good. Are we all on the same page, here?"

"Calm down," said AJ, placing a lunch tray in front of them both. "If you're talking about where I think you're talking about… well, we'll have fun again. That little island where we met… it's literally _crawling_ with trained soldiers who would wage a personal war with any yacht in the vicinity. You remember the old Japanese aircraft carrier, right? The one that was beached and broke in half? Yeah… that one. There are cannons on the deck capable of shooting several miles out to sea. If we simply get too close to that dome, we'll be fired upon. It makes more sense to visit the island again, disappear and head to our next location from there."

"So then we'll just go there and secure the island."

Saundra balked. "Those people are trained. They're no joke."

"Yeah, I know… They killed six Navy Seals. I remember." She saw both agents cringe. "Sorry… Sore subject. Anyhow, your government has built some sort of strange friendship with that location. We would need to cause something to happen so catastrophic that the inhabitants would leave the island of their own will. I don't mean a hurricane… I mean something as tremendous as a meteor hitting the island."

AJ chuckled. "You have control over something like that? Are you _Zeus_, able to throw a bolt of lighting out of the sky?"

The inspector smiled in a wicked way, realizing that Saundra never told AJ about breaking into the CIA a few months back. "You'd be surprised. Let's meet in Florida tomorrow and charter a yacht. See you then." She picked up the lunch tray and added, "Thanks for an expensive breakfast. I think I'll take it to go." And, with that said, she walked away.

**

* * *

**

**A/N: **_I kept it short for this chapter because a lot will be going on in the next chapter so… yeah! Exciting! We're almost to the climatic part of this story. We also have to do a flashback scene or two to catch up on how Carmelita wound up pregnant and married. And what happened between her and her father. Kudos to Chris who commented on my "Kit Karamak" Facebook page about her father living in the French Riviera when I mentioned in the last chapter that he was now in Panama. xD_


	23. Memories and Moving On

A/N: _Just to make sure there's no misunderstanding, the first part of this chapter is a flashback. One of several to happen before this story ends. In my opinion, the flashback is the best part of this chapter, lol_…

* * *

X

Chapter -23-  
"_Memories and Moving Forward_"

_Cote d'Azur_, _several months __**ago**__…_

**"Papa," said Carmelita in a disenchanted way**, "Be nice."

"Nice? 'Nice' is just to the north," he replied, speaking of the largest city in the French Riviera. "Carmelita, your beau is a _criminal_ and, while I cannot verify it, I'm willing to wager his amnesia was just a ploy to avoid arrest."

"Papa, give him a chance. He's proven himself."

"Niña, if he gets his memories back, he'll forsake you." Mr. Fox placed a pipe into the corner of his muzzle and lit it. After only a matter of minutes, the small cottage smelled of blueberry smoke. It was a fine replacement for the Honduran and Cuban cigars he used to smoke just a few years ago. "He might have gotten them back already and is lying to you."

She gritted her teeth. "¡Dios Mio, Papa! He never lost them in the first place! He came clean to me ages ago and has proven himself time and again, but he kept it quiet so that no one would judge _me_ over _my_ decision to have a relationship with him!"

He cradled the pipe in his palm and said, "Didn't he leave you a while back?" Mr. Fox pulled the pipe from his lips and used the mouthpiece to point at her. "You were in tears."

"He found out someone from his family's past was trying to settle a score against him and he didn't want me involved out of concern for my safety. Don't you think that's sweet of him?"

"I don't know what to think," said the retired vulpine cop. "He's responsible for some of the biggest crimes of our time and was oddly cleared of his crimes… sounds despicable that he and his friends have the connections to make their crimes suddenly not matter. Then, suddenly, just a few months ago, all his international crimes disappear! There's no honor in the way he lives."

She knew she couldn't explain that the CIA pulled strings to remove his international record and sighed as if in defeat. "I won't defend what he's done but I will tell you that if it wasn't for him, I'd have been killed in the line of work _several_ times. You KNOW this; he goes out of his way to put himself into danger to ensure I come out of those situations unscathed… that's what a woman wants in a relationship… to know her man would risk 'life and limb' to ensure her safety. SO… he's even worked as a law officer for a while. He tried for me… But he'd make a better historian than an officer with all the time he's spent in museums."

"That's all we need… is for the Fox name to have ties with a family of Robin Hood types so that your children will become Indiana Jones. Fanciful wishes, Carmelita, not to mention an irony; Indiana Jones was a teacher by day and a grave robber after hours – your children will become _thieves _the very same way, mark my words."

"PAPA! They could become cops or government agents or anything they wanted. Sly left his cane and his things with his childhood friends. He gave it up for me that day on Kane Island. He loves me and I love him. You're the only family _either_ of us have – his parents were…"

"…I know the story," said the aging man. "I didn't say I refuse to come to your wedding but… it does hurt my heart to think that he might return to his thieving ways one day… it will tear you apart… or worse, you might _join_ him."

Carmelita turned away with her arms folded. She wanted to be upset but having just broken into the CIA and Lubyanka, she felt dirty because her father was right to an extent. "Papa, I want to be married for the sake of our family."

"Go on."

With a sigh the vixen lowered her ears. She turned back to her father with a measure of reluctance. Carmelita drew in a long, slow breath then said, "I'm pregnant." She watched his eyes grow wide then sighed again. "I want this baby. I really, _really_ want this baby. I know you wanted me to wait until marriage to lose my virginity and I've not told anyone because it would shame you… but get with the modern times, Papa; not everyone waits anymore. And don't get upset with Sly – I wished for it to happen… he asked me several times if I was sure… and we began to take the next step in our relationship. It took about six weeks before it happened. I'm not very far along but… I started getting morning sickness and I was four-and-a-half weeks 'late'. So I went to a doctor… I'm pregnant."

"Wh…when did you find out?"

"Yesterday morning," she murmured. "I won't apologize; this is something I'm ready for. I've built up my career… now I want to do this before I'm too old to think about it."

"Too _OLD_… you're still too YOUNG!"

For a brief instant, his remark caused her to see red. "I am the _perfect age_!" she shouted with clenched fists. She saw his ears lower then she frowned. "S-sorry, Papa."

He leered at her for a moment then shook his head. "As fiery as your mother." He stood up and walked to the window. Carmelita remained silent out of shame for her outburst and became slightly perplexed as he began to speak again. "This region is unique. It has the subtropical trees you see out the window like Palms, eucalyptus and such… but it also has trees found in temperate areas around the world, like the horse chestnut in the front yard… the Norway spruce in the backyard. It barely ever sees an inch of snow during a bad winter, even with the Ligurian Alps so close. The water is blue and beautiful." He paused then said, "I'm going to miss this place."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Carmelita, I'll give you away at the wedding. I don't want to… but sometimes a father has a hard time letting go. Where will you live?"

"We'll be staying just south of Monte Carlo for a while. I wanted to get out of Paris after Clockwerk attacked downtown – I'll stay away until after the baby is born. Sly proposed the idea of having a place to the east of Lyon where we could be away from everyone else and raise our family in peace but I'd still be able to take the train in to work at Interpol headquarters. Perhaps one day. Right now, though, we're in a quiet area south of here. We're leasing the house for about a year until we figure out what we want to do."

"Why there?"

"One of the best pregnancy doctors in France lives there. Sly insists I have the best. He's paying for everything."

"…With stolen inheritance," interjected her father. "Carmelita, I'm sure some part of him means well. He's risked himself to help you more than once… fine. He's tried working as a constable – fair enough. He's paying for everything… that's well and good. But in the end, he still clashes with everything our family stands for." His eyes narrowed. "You arrest criminals; you don't _tame them_, Carmelita." His facial expression lightened once more and he continued. "I _know_ he's gotten out of his 'tussle' with the law every single time he's crossed our path but marrying him to keep him 'good' doesn't always work and I don't want him to hurt you or to corrupt you."

"Tell me the story of mama, again."

"Carmelita…" he trailed off with a sigh. "Not while you're pregnant. It's bad luck."

"Fine. But you _will_ give me away at my wedding, por favor?"

"I will. I promise. She's why I'm here but perhaps I should go back there."

She gritted her teeth. "¡Padre!" Would he dare run away from problems the way he left Panama so many years ago?

"I said _perhaps_. I'm not sure of anything at the moment. I've made mistakes in my life – we all have… I just wanted to know my daughter would live her life mistake free so that you would be happy when you reach my age."

"Walking away from true love is a mistake I could never live with. I'll let you know when the wedding will be. Sly doesn't really have a lot of people that could attend. I'm the same way… The Fox family used to be enormous but now it's less than thirty people, none of with whom I still have contact; what about…?"

"Don't suggest it. I know what you're going to say and I'm not advising it. Leave your maternal family in Latin America. There is no point in seeking their praise – they don't care about your career, your choice of mate or France. Send them postcards instead. They won't want to travel."

"Fair enough." She approached him at the window and asked, "Why couldn't you two work things out?"

"It was a long time ago… and I don't want to see you fall apart the same way just because you two are unevenly yoked."

Her voice became stern. "Don't give me that bullshit. I've heard that nonsense growing up and I _still_ don't subscribe to it. I can't help whom I love and I've decided to embrace it so that it doesn't tear me apart. Just because you couldn't make things work and had to _run away, halfway across the globe_ doesn't mean I'll have the same problem. I've learned from your mistakes so I can do better… and my children will learn from mine so _they_ can do better than the _both_ of us. Papa, I want my children happy and I want Sly to be apart of their lives. It's settled. There's no use having an enormous wedding. It won't be small but it won't be very large, either. Promise me you'll come."

He turned away from the window. "I'll be there to give you away. I won't shoot your betrothed so don't worry yourself. I'm just… I worry for you."

"Keep right on worrying about me. I have enough to worry about, now." Carmelita placed her paws on her still-flat stomach. "…I can't think about myself – my mind is right _here_." She rubbed her paws over her taut tummy.

"And your heart? Is that going to suffer if you marry him? Are you only marrying because you're carrying his child?"

Again, her voice turned scolding. "Papa! Stop that. I'm marrying him because I want to spend my life with him. Yes, I'll have to scold him every once in a while, I'm sure… but I love him, regardless. My heart is only going to suffer if I back out on my decision to spend my life with him. I don't expect Sly Cooper to become a saint overnight but I _do_ expect him to respect our marriage by behaving. Have some faith in the man I've chosen to father your grandchildren. Please."

"I… may return to Panama after the wedding."

"Really…? Why?"

"I just… I came to France to help you advance in your career goals because you were too young at the time to do it alone. Carmelita, you don't need your daddy anymore. You're a grown woman about to raise her own family, now. I've not decided for sure if I want to leave France but… …well… and don't take this the wrong way but… France is a little… _tainted_ now."

"I see." She swallowed then sighed. "I'll let you know when the ceremony will take place. I should get home before sundown." They hugged each other then she left his cottage, got into her car and headed towards the main road.

* * *

X

_Present day, France_…

"**Your Spanish is getting better**," said Carmelita with a grin and a shake of her head.

"Yeah… But it's different than the Spanish from Spain."

"True to a point. But what did you mean specifically?"

Sly grinned impishly. "_Coger_ in Mexico means 'to sex', similar to '_to eff_' but in Spain it just means 'to take'. As in, '_voy a coger un camion_' means I want to catch the bus in Spain but means you want to 'eff' the bus, in Mexican. I'm just glad you're not having me learn Brazilian Portuguese. I heard that's much harder."

Carmelita snorted her tea at his example and spent the rest of his speech trying to dab her nose. "Yes, yes, it's harder. I'm just glad the morning sickness days are over. I feel a lot more energized now. Your spawn is now three inches long and about an ounce or so in weight. Scary thought… our grain of rice has become a little larger than a strawberry. …I could go for some strawberries right now."

Sly chuckled. "Are you sure you want to get involved in this fight against Clockwerk? Maybe you should stay here in France and have some strawberries?" He closed his suitcase and latched it then turned to her only to notice she was glaring at him. "What… what I mean to say is… Clockwerk won't know what hit him. You can do anything you want, _while_ wearing high heels, _while_ pregnant."

Her expression lightened. "Exactly what I thought I heard you say," she replied with a smile. "Sly, before we leave for the airport… let's go to bed."

"Go to…?"

"Coger," she replied, using his 'example word' from a moment ago.

He paused, turned to look at her then said, "You'd think I suffered from maiesiophilia as often as you want 'coger', while pregnant. C'mon, I'll unmake the sheets. We don't have a lot of time, though. The plane leaves for Florida in less than two hours."

"Yeah… so? We have time," she murmured with a devious grin. She couldn't help it – her hormones were in flux.

* * *

X

_Miami, Florida_…

**"Of **_**course**_** it feels like it should be later than it is,"** said Carmelita with a shrug. We're in a different time zone. It's fifteen hundred hours."

Sly nodded firmly. "Yes, baby, I know what time it is; I've traveled enough to know how it works. I've always found it interesting that you can fly somewhere like from France to the United States and when you look at your watch, only a few hours have passed since you left, regardless of sitting on a plane for ten hours. I'm a little jetlagged but that just means I'll be wide awake with the sun still up."

"I hate that feeling," she murmured with an understanding nod. "Let's find our 'friends' and meet up for our trip. With our flight path from France taking our plane so close to that stupid dome, Clockwerk is either surprisingly stealthy or he's already been captured _again_. Personally, I'd rather go back out there alone or with your gang but the CIA wants to be involved for some reason."

"I'm surprised you didn't want to take the _jet _you bought. Are we supposed to meet them here or on the island?"

She offered her newlywed husband a smile. "Yeah, the United States would LOVE seeing a fighter jet enter their airspace… not. And yes, Sly, I was deliberately obscure on details to those morons. If we don't cross paths with them here, then we may-or-may-not catch up with them there. I'm not concerned." The couple continued down a long pier that looked similar to a strip mall. People milled about and fresh fish markets surrounded them on all sides. At the end was a sign that read, "_Flexible Yacht Rentals_" in bold black lettering on a glossy white sign. There were four boat slips with three available yachts. Carmelita's expression dimmed, seeing Saundra and Jacob White up on the middle boat. Her eyes widened seeing Cleopatra join the group. "Well, I'll be damned… Both sisters; they really are two separate people."

Sly nodded. "Why would she have lied about having a sister from the beginning? It's something that can be verified after all." He nodded to the man in uniform on the dock then followed his wife up the gangplank to the luxuriously fancy rental. Jacob greeted the two. Sly shook his paw and said, "I'm surprised to see both of them together."

"Not as surprised as me, my friend," said White. He released Sly's left paw then turned the raccoon's wrist over to inspect the wedding band. "Congratulations on your wedding, Mister and Mrs. Cooper. Now… we've paid extra to have the boat to ourselves without the handler. Let's get underway, shall we? The yacht is large enough that everyone can have their own room. However, we're using most of the rooms for equipment so we'll be sharing. You two get a room and the Moore sisters wish to share a room with me."

"Gee, wonder how that's going to play out," murmured Carmelita. "Playgirl fox and two sleazy twins. Let's not forget why we're here. This isn't the Love Boat."

Jacob offered a broad smile. "Oh, but it is, my dear newlyweds… and _I_ am Captain Merrill Stubing." He saluted. A disenchanted Carmelita brushed by him with a roll of her eyes. Sly followed her with a mere shrug. Jacob chuckled at his own joke and pulled the gangplank into its tracks then pressed a footswitch in the deck, causing it to retract into the boat automatically. He signaled to a man on the dock then headed for the flybridge of the enormous, beautiful vessel.

The man on the dock unmoored the sleek black yacht and tossed the ropes up onto its deck then simply walked away as he was paid to do. Meanwhile, up on the bridge, Jacob sat down at the controls. The panels were 'touch-membrane' and easy to operate. There was no wheel but three matte-finish LCD monitors built into a panel with a black joystick. He pulled a captain-style hat out from beneath the dash and put it onto his head then backed the yacht out of its slip. "I want one of these!" he exclaimed as the jet-black boat eased away from its home. He brought the front end around and headed east.

He guided the ship out, away from the public area and engaged the autopilot to coordinates he'd memorized from the previous trip. After that, he headed back down into the ship to find everyone else.

* * *

x

**"I can't find the island on the sea charts, Google Earth, **or anywhere on the internet," muttered Inspector Cooper. She turned to her husband then glanced back at the two women. Side by side, she couldn't tell if they were fraternal twins but with Saundra's keen ability to look like anything or anyone, they very well could have been identical.

"Trust me, it's there," said Saundra. "You were there, remember? It's been purchased, so to speak."

Cleopatra added, "Remember when we talked about the power of the internet, while inside that dome?" She waited for Carmelita to nod then continued. "Seeing clear blue water in that part of the ocean is disinformation. It's a lie. There is an island. In fact, the Atlantic Ocean was named for Atlantis – it was named such for as long as anyone can remember. Where we're going is in the triangle between Miami, Bermuda and Puerto Rico." She spoke with a dialect. "Whether or not the Bermuda Triangle is real… it doesn't matter. Whether or not it was something caused by something in the real Atlantis… that's science fiction until proven otherwise. The truth is, the island and this mobile dome… it's in that area. And, just like that television show, Lost, the island moves."

Carmelita rolled her eyes. "The island _moves_? Okay, okay, now you're just being silly. And if it _did_ move, then how could you possibly locate it again? This just doesn't add up, seriously now."

"Because," said Saundra, "The United States Government can see it from the sky. We know where it is, when and, now, we also know why. But with Clockwerk having attacked parts of Europe, the United States is willing to break our little truce with the dome and the island in order to ensure that thing is destroyed."

"If you know _why_ all that crap is out there… then tell me."

Saundra offered the vixen a smile. "The owner is looking for the _real_ Atlantis."

Sly ran his fingers through his hair. "Oh boy."

Carmelita glanced to her mate. "I'm glad you and I happen to be on the same page." She looked over her shoulder, hearing footsteps. AJ stepped into the room and greeted everyone except for her. Carmelita turned back to the two sisters and said, "My compass isn't spinning. It wasn't during the first visit, either. Let me guess… I have to be at the _center_ of the triangle for it to act up? Seriously, though… Just because a few World War II planes crashed in heavy fog doesn't mean the Bermuda Triangle has any mystical powers."

"You're probably right," said Cleo with a smirk. "Perhaps those pilots didn't know how to fly by their instruments or Charles Taylor got lost. Perhaps a few ships simply got stuck in a storm and went down, there. Anything is a possibility."

Carmelita snorted. "Nothing recent. You're talking about the forties, fifties and sixties. And there was some incident around the First World War."

She paused then said, "Piper PA-46-310P N444JH, on April 10th, 2007, near Berry Islands. Aircraft disappeared. That's _this year._"

Carmelita frowned. "That's just one incident. It's a coincidence. And a Malibu is a piece of crap from the 80's. Sure, they're popular for bush flying but a good storm coming from the gulf would be hell on a small plane like that."

Cleo chuckled. "You know your planes; Piper didn't make many Malibu's. So… Piper PA-23 apache N6886Y on June 20th, 2005, between Treasure Cay, BI, to Fort Pierce, FL. Disappeared. Piper PA-32, Cherokee Six, 300 N822rC, November 13th 2003, over the Exumas, Bahamas. Look'em up. I'm sure an entire _squadron_ of World War II pilots, Flight 19, was full of people who don't know how to fly by their instruments in inclement weather. The first one I mentioned was quite recent, just a few weeks ago. The USS Cyclops sank in March 1918 but was never found. All the aircraft of Flight 19 ran out of fuel and crashed but were never found. And the Marine Sulphur Queen sank in February of 1963 but floating debris was located… life preservers and other things with the name… In the nineteenth century, compass variation made the Triangle one of two points in the world to cause a compass to point towards true north instead of magnetic north. About a year after the MSQ sank, the term "Bermuda Triangle" popped up and became sensationalized. Perhaps it's because Bermuda was once called the "Isle of Devils" and has a sensational number of shipwrecks surrounding its treacherous reefs. There are literally hundreds of shipwrecks surrounding Bermuda. Gian J. Quasar has a website that lists all small ships, yachts and aircraft from 1999 to 2001 that have disappeared in the Triangle… more than I could ever attempt to memorize."

"Okay, okay," Carmelita grumbled. She wasn't quite sure what to think. "You're throwing information at me and you're the kind of person to use disinformation liberally… So is the place a mystery or not?"

Pleased with Carmelita's intelligence, Cleopatra shook her head. "No. All the recent disappearances, aircraft and boat alike, are accounted for."

"They…are?" Sly blinked. "Then what's the mystery?"

"The mystery," said Saundra, "is that they disappeared. The _reason_ is because those people either flew over the island or anchored there or came too close in general."

AJ cut in. "Remember I mentioned the deck cannons of the old Aircraft Carrier? They load it with cannons that are capable of shooting _well over_ a mile out to sea. You have to be quite careful about how you approach that island if you wish to go there because many more than six Navy Seals have died there. See? There's no super secret mystery. There are trained people there that love using the 'mystery motif' to their advantage."

"What about the older occurrences?" asked Sly. "There were ships and planes that have disappeared there for quite some time, long before 1999."

Cleo grinned in a knowing way. "Anything before 1997 cannot be attributed to the island."

Sly quirked his brows. "So what caused _those_ occurrences?"

Cleo's grin broadened in a devious way. "That's where the mystery begins and ends. Who knows… maybe the _Bermuda Triangle_ got'em." She winked.

"Oh brother." Carmelita waved her paws at them. "Enough talk about a fictitious area. Moving on… What's the plan?"

AJ placed his paws on the map table. "We come in at the same angle as last time. We look for Clockwerk and, if necessary, procure a submersible vehicle and we silently attack the dome… again, same as before. We find Clockwerk, we destroy him and we all go home."

"Good – a no-nonsense plan," said Carmelita. "I like that. How long before we arrive?"

AJ stepped back away from the sea chart table and sat on a cushy leather sofa with a sigh of content. "We're doing a solid twenty-six knots, so that's about thirty miles an hour. We're headed about seven hundred _miles_ from Miami. That's about fourteen hundred minutes of travel time. That's about twenty-three hours away." He glanced at his watch. "It's about fourteen hundred thirty hours, Eastern Time. So! We'll arrive tomorrow afternoon. Around fifteen hundred hours Atlantic UTC-4 time. Does that satisfy all your questions?"

Carmelita's eyes narrowed at him. "You could have simply said, '_around this time tomorrow_', you know. The three of you love over-complicating everything. I'm starting to get tired of it."

"Fair enough," said AJ with a shrug. "But we're not _military_. We elaborate on things. I'm sorry you prefer everything concise. Our way tends to ensure there is no confusion."

"Whatever. You guys just like to hear yourselves talk," said the Inspector.

Saundra turned to Sly. "You've hardly said _anything_. What do _you_ think?"

Sly tilted his head a bit. "I've learned to stay quiet during mission briefings. But in my opinion, we should slow down and take our time. We'll arrive after sundown and have the element of stealth on our side. The yacht is painted _black_ for goodness sake. We have that to our advantage. The other option is to speed up and get there _tonight_. This is a pretty flashy ship. I bet we could make landfall by two in the morning if we gunned the engines."

Saundra shook her head. "While I like the idea of getting there at night, speedy targets are noticed easily. This yacht can do seventy-five miles an hour on the open water. We could get there in ten hours, which is, as you guessed, around two-thirty in the morning. But I don't want to get spotted. We'll casually make our way there. So, let's do what you initially suggested… we slow down." She turned to AJ and nodded. "Head back up top and slow us to about eighteen knots. When we get close, we'll assess time and distance and eyeball our options. We may simply anchor four or five miles offshore and head in by dinghy when we're ready."

AJ gave Sly a pat on the shoulder. "Smart thinking, raccoon. No wonder you got 'the girl', my friend." With a measure of reluctance he left the comfort of the leather sofa and headed back to the flybridge.

Carmelita took Sly by the wrist. "Which room is ours?"

Saundra up-nodded. "This way." She led them back through the bowels of the spacious luxury vessel and passed several rooms. The agent stopped at each one along the way to show the couple each gear room. "This one will serve as the armory." She opened the door where a generous amount of guns were in cases and there were un-lidded crates of ammo. The one across the hall was opened. "This is our communication's room. We've set up laptops with internet access and a jamming station." A plain Wal-Mart computer desk was erected in the middle of the room with three laptops. They all displayed a Windows Vista screensaver. Another similar desk was in the corner up against the wall with expensive looking communications equipment.

The next few rooms were the same way, holding equipment, various clothing and high-tech gadgets. She opened another door leading to a rather large bedroom with a king-sized bed. "I'll be staying here with Cleopatra and Jacob." She then led them passed a bathroom, a closet, another living room and, finally, at the end of the hall, a master bedroom. "And, for the newlyweds, the honeymoon suite." In fact, the master bedroom was enormous. It had a private bathroom, walk-in closet and a kitchenette. The bed was up in the front of the room, shaped like a reverse heart with the tip coming together at the bow. "I'm sure you'll find it satisfactory. Once we figure out _how_ to destroy Clockwerk, we'll leave you two with the boat for a day or two extra… how's that sound? Take your honeymoon around the Caribbean. In fact, if you like, you can have the boat for an extra _week_."

"Provided Clockwerk doesn't destroy it," said Carmelita.

"Or those guys on the island," added Sly. He stepped into the room then asked, "What if we can't destroy Clockwerk without help? Then what?"

"Sly," Carmelita sighed. "Do you really think we'll need them?"

"If anyone can hack in with those codes… it's him."

Saundra smiled. "So you _did_ get the other code after that night we broke into the CIA… good. Well… if you guys want Bentley and Penelope here…I'll send for them. We can consolidate some stuff to open up one of the bedrooms."

Carmelita turned back to Saundra and quietly said, "So, was Edgar Cayce right? Is Atlantis down there?"

"Just because we think the owner of that dome is looking for Atlantis doesn't mean it's down there. Cleo loves that crap but I prefer facts. Fact is… that Island is full of no-good people who shoot at everything. Mystery theory types are quick to clamor and everyone else rolls their eyes and assumes there was an accident. That island is an enormous barge covered in sand, dirt, clay and it supports vegetation. It's not a real island and _that_ is why it moves. If you ask me, we should _destroy it_. If you cut support to that dome, they'll have to surface it… then they won't be protected. They might have made some sort of strange true with the US Government but if the thing surfaces… it won't go unnoticed and the United Nations will want answers so the truce with the US will end. I say we use that Zeus Cannon to take down both Clockwerk _and_ that island. Then we let the dome surface when they run short on supplies. Again, if you require Bentley and Penelope for support… I'll send for them."

Sly spoke up. "Fly them out here. Immediately. Make room for them. I want this to be over so I can focus on my marriage. Brief your staff. If Clockwerk isn't in the area or on that island, how do we get back to that dome?"

"Steal another sub," she told the couple. "But thanks to _you_, that option will be difficult. You guys succeeded in doing that once before… but now security is tighter and sharper. It'll be nearly impossible, now. So, we'll need to create a diversion on one side of the island while AJ and myself sneak onto that old carrier and take out the soldiers one at a time. You and Carmelita will go for the sub while we clear a path. AJ will go with you and I will disappear from the carrier undetected. Same as before, we'll use depth charges to attack the far side of the dome so that you guys can get in and around the underwater city without being noticed. We have five depth charges aboard this yacht for that very purpose."

"Okay." Sly put his paw on Carmelita's back. "They're over-explaining everything again. C'mon hon… let's go relax." He wondered further into the spacious bedroom then announced, "There's a hot tub!"

* * *

x

_Twelve hours later_…

**Sly sat up in bed.** His ears perked and he gave Carmelita a gentle shove, causing her to stir. She murmured in a slight stupor. "Sweetie, I hear a chopper." He got out of bed and gave her a robe then slid into pajama pants and a t-shirt. "I think Bentley and Penelope have arrived." He grinned a bit, rubbing sleep from his eyes then said, "Meet me topside when you're ready." He left the bedroom and made his way up the dimly illuminated hallway. Sly took a set of stairs to the top deck, beneath the flybridge then headed to the stern where there was a flat deck for small helicopters. And small it was – the helicopter was practically a toy in Sly's opinion.

Penelope was the first out. She turned around, using her shoulder to keep the door open and reached for Bentley's wheelchair, which was handed out in a folded configuration. She opened it then reached for her lover, helping him to drop down into the cushioned seat. To Cooper's surprise, Murray was the next to leave the chopper. He had several suitcases in his arms. He put them on the deck then opened a compartment beneath the chopper and pulled out a medium-sized crate. He put it on the deck, closed the compartment then shouted to the pilot. His words were lost over the buffeting of the chopper blades. He shut the door and backed away. The helicopter ascended back into the night sky.

"Hey gang," said Sly with a grin now that the noise was dying down. "Good to see everyone… although Bentley is going to have a tough time with that wheelchair. Maybe we can fashion some ramps to cover the steps."

"It's okay," said Bentley. "I've brought a prototype of my latest leg attachments… another walking machine if you will. So far as having the last set trashed… well, Lloyd's of London is insuring _these_ babies." He reached up from the wheelchair and hugged his friend. "Good to see you, Sly."

"Hey buddy," said Murray, hugging Sly from the left. "This boat is _awesome_! The pilot had a hard time finding it because it's black… I'm not gonna lie… black yachts are just… really _cool_."

Penelope offered Sly a smile. "Hey, newlywed. How's Mrs. Cooper?"

As if on cue, Carmelita stepped out in a fluffy white robe with the sash tied. "I can't complain. Hell of a honeymoon. I'm still a little queasy on some mornings but surprisingly well so far, considering I just got up and we're in motion. How are you three?"

"Tired," said Bentley. "People from the United States Embassy were knocking on our door and proceeded to rush us at every chance they could. But here we are."

"I can't wait to drive this thing!" Murray glanced up at the flybridge above and grinned brightly. "This thing is probably fast, too."

"It is," Sly assured.

Penelope turned to Carmelita and told her, "I've not had the chance to see you since the wedding. How far along are you now?"

"Second trimester," said the Inspector. "The hardest part was the beginning. I heard the third trimester could be a real pain, though. Bladder woes, aching back… the works."

"I'm still excited for you," replied the mouse with a nerdy grin. She adjusted her glasses then said, "Where do we sleep?"

Sly frowned. "We have several rooms set up with gear and stuff… we only have one extra room available for sleeping but… the communications room has a Murphy bed that comes out of the wall. I'll get Murray situated in there and see you two in the morning." He turned to his wife and added, "Can you show them to their room while I get Murray familiar with the controls then help him get his bedroom set up?"

The vixen nodded wearily. "Yeah, sure thing." Then she nodded towards Penelope and Bentley. "This way, you two." They began walking together and she helped with getting the wheelchair down the stairs. "Now these CIA bozos are talking about Atlantis. I think it's pretty obvious that Atlantis never existed."

"If it did," said Bentley, "Plato said it was bigger than Libya and Asia minor together… and in the Atlantic Ocean. And there's no proof that beings lived during the time of Pangaea so… There's also a theory that, because the South American tectonic plate and the African plate are moving apart, Atlantis dropped straight to the bottom and filled in the gaps. Millennia of ocean currents would have caused it to be buried, practically in the mantle. But, so far as science is concerned… you're right. Atlantis probably never existed."

Penelope grinned. "A lot of Plato's work was proven to be somewhat accurate. A lot the places he spoke of were real. He said there was a world beyond the Pillars of Hercules. Maybe he meant _America_ was the enormous 'island' of Atlantis. They were said to have a stellar navy – even thousands of years later when Leif Erickson came to America and Norse people tried to settle, the natives drove them off. You wouldn't think that Native Americans can drive off Vikings but… let's face it, they were fierce warriors. Perhaps their ancestors were the Atlantians."

"That is also another feasible theory," the turtle said as Carmelita wheeled him into their quarters. "Which means the island didn't sink – its implosion was a metaphor. The people disbanded and the government collapsed in on itself. After a few thousand years, the people regressed to tribal groups; the Native Americans. But we'll never know for sure because I'm not willing to take my time machine back nine thousand years due to the danger that I might not be able to get back. If I build a time platform, I can only go back and forth during time periods where I know my machine exists just in case I need parts. That way I can go forward again to the present time."

"Guess we'll never know," said Carmelita with an uncaring shrug. "For all we know, they had flying cars back then. Obviously, nothing would be left of it today – it only takes a car about three or four decades in someone's back yard before it turns to a rusted heap. It would be nothing but dust in a hundred more years… so if they did exist, and if they did have flying cars… we wouldn't find them. Who knows, right? Sleep well, you two."

Penelope followed Bentley into the room and offered a smile to Carmelita. The vixen smiled back, wearily. "Goodnight." The mouse shut the door and locked it. Carmelita turned away, coming face to face with Cleopatra in the dark hallway. "What?"

"That was a rather open-minded statement for you to make, whether or not you took it seriously. I'm proud of you."

The vixen scoffed then chuckled. "Yeah… I'm glad you're proud that I amuse myself. If the owner of that domed city really _is_ looking for a make-believe city that predates all written history… well… good luck to him."

Cleopatra ran her fingers up through her hair. "I'm afraid if we do find it… it won't be as glorious as mankind made it out to sound. There will be no aliens, no flying cars or futuristic navy. To use your example, as quickly as an automobile rusts away to dust… a modern city could erode into sand and silt beneath the ocean. If there ever was such a place, it's surely little left. But you didn't hear that from me. After all, anything is possible, right?" She slipped back into her room with Saundra and AJ, locking the door behind herself.

"Peh. It's all just an invention of Plato's fancy." She made her way back to her room but left the door open, knowing Sly would be back shortly.

* * *

X

**A/N**: _HEY! Okay, so, since this story is set in 2006/2007, I was unable to also throw more facts at you guys. In 2008, there was another airplane that disappeared in the Bermuda Triangle. According to the Associated Press, it left the Dominican Republic and the FAA claims it disappeared before reaching Bermuda. Also, on May 17__th__ of 2008, the Deep See/Sea (a ship) found Flight 19 only ten miles off the coast of Ft. Lauderdale… but only nineteen days later, they recanted their claim – the lost planes were NOT from Flight 19… how eerie that the same number of planes crashed in nearly the same place… the pilots were still in the cockpits. So far as Flight 19, they were never found. Also, a Martin Mariner, "Trainer 49", which was sent out to help locate Flight 19 the evening they went missing… well… it exploded and was found by the SS Gaines Mill in pieces, floating in the water, with oil and parts everywhere. So, anyway, what were the planes we found, if it wasn't Flight 19? Apparently, the Navy used to dump planes in the ocean off the coast of Florida when they were beyond repair. So there should be about 139 Avengers at the bottom of that part of the Atlantic. All the cases that Cleopatra mentions in this story are accurate. I attribute the losses to the island visited earlier in this story for the sake of fiction. Also, in 1965, the Fly Boxcar, a Fairchild C-119, disappeared in the Triangle. Anyhow… I don't believe the Bermuda Triangle is anything spectacular. If I had a manmade platform covered in sand, palmtrees and dressed to look like an island… you'd be sure I'd keep it in that area, so that people would roll their eyes and assume it was "mystery chasers" starting drama. No one would know my little fake island is right there off the coast of Miami! Everyone would think it's a hoax and ignore it. And so that's what happens here. _

_Finally, the Atlantic Ocean was NOT named after Atlantis. It was named after Atlas, but NOT the TITAN, Atlas as the ocean waters that were beyond the 'Atlas Mountains' and the 'Pillars of Hercules.' No, it was named after ANOTHER Atlas. Poseidon had five sets of male twins, with a mortal woman named Cleito. One of those boys was named Atlas, an astronomer, who became the King of Atlantis – according to Plato, that's how the Atlantic got its name. But this is a fiction story so… I had some fun with it and with Cleo saying what she said. Ahem. Now… we've passed all the boring chatter… the next few chapters will be full of action, cool flashbacks and seeing the spies in action… it'll be way more interesting than these last few updates, LOL. _


	24. Assault

Chapter -24-  
"_Assault_"

"**There it is**," said Saundra. She drew her sunglasses from her face, held it by the right hinge and pointed with the plastic left arm towards the distant island. It was little more than a dot on the horizon.

Sly looked her over, sprawled out on a deck chair with a tanning mirror in her arms, held the way one might hold an open book. "Are you sunbathing?"

"Obviously." She placed the sunshades back on her muzzle then pushed them up to the bridge of her snout. "Sly, we're out here until sundown. You can barely see the island from here and only because it's such a clear day. The yacht is black with a matte finish, so they won't see the gleam of the hull. We're fine. How are your friends?"

"Everyone is well. I still can't understand why you would sunbathe when you obviously use fur-dye to obtain whatever look you want…" He changed subject suddenly. "Look, I would never say this around Carmelita but… she's pregnant and I don't want anything to happen to her. If I die, the kids grow up without a father. If she dies, there won't be _any_ Cooper children. It's important that she remains safe."

"I understand – you want to ensure she's protected. There's just one problem," she said in a soft voice. "She's gung-ho. I can't help you."

"All I'm asking is that if you're over there killing every soldier you see… don't miss any. Please."

Saundra sat up a bit and smiled. "AJ will keep you two alive. He's a ticking time bomb but that mentality has given him an edge in the field. He has nothing to lose so he gives every mission his 'all'. You two will be safe with him. Me? I'll do what I do and the island will be as safe as a playground at the local park. My sister will drop depth charges on the dome with the help of your driver-friend, Murray. Everything will work out. Stop worrying."

"I've never had a reason to worry before. It's new to me." Sly turned around and followed the deck from the front of the yacht to the aft, taking steps down beneath the yawning flybridge. He saw Penelope at a living room table with Murray and patted her on the shoulder in passing then made his way down the hall to the master bedroom. He opened the door and smiled at his wife.

Carmelita was slipping into a custom-made sneaking suit with an extended belly area. She grinned up at her husband and said, "The torso section is made with support, just like a bra, to hold 'Baby' in place so that there is minimal shock or trauma from running and jumping. Think of it has a fetus-safe corset."

"Yeah… a fetus-safe corset for the active lifestyle of a runnin' gunnin' foxy momma."

"You just have such a way with words," she retorted sarcastically. "This thing is also padded in the front so that if I take a blow to the torso, there's a pad of gel to absorb the impact. Kinda' like insoles for your shoes."

"So you'll be gel'in like those shoe commercials?"

"Yes, yes, like the shoe commercials." She stood up from the bed and began to pull the stealth suit up over her nude body. It was a form-fitting piece, specially tailored to fit her body like a second skin. She reached behind herself to adjust her tail but Sly came around to help, pulling it free and setting the suit's back fastenings properly. She turned on the cabin lighting so that he could see it was maroon, just like her last one. "In memory of you, us, and our heist at the CIA. What do you think?"

He let out a low whistle. The design of the fabric made it so that she didn't really look pregnant – at least not to the untrained eye. "You rock that body, girl."

"You're such a cad."

"I know what I like and now that we're married, I can flirt a little harder than I did before." Sly stepped back to look her over, not having seen her look quite so slender in several months. "It's definitely designed to give you a girly figure, Carmelita."

"If by _girly_ you mean… _effeminate_, then yes… it _is_ designed to accentuate my feminine build, walk and flexibility so that the woman wearing it can be at her best. What about your friends… are they ready to finish this?"

He nodded firmly. "Yes, they are. I just hope that it's actually _finished_ when the dust settles. I don't want to have to come back out here in the future, whether it's tomorrow, a week, month, year or decade from now."

"If we find out this place is still in operation _two decades_ from now… I'll still wanna come back out here and shut it down." Carmelita looked up at him and added, "And I'd expect you to help me finish it."

Sly nodded in reply. "Yes, sweetheart. I would, too. But I HOPE we finish it all for good because I'm ready to be a dad and a husband."

Carmelita smiled. His words were genuine and had meaning in his tone. "Now _that_ was sweet of you to say. _THAT_ is the kind of talk that gets you laid." She stood up and cupped his face in her paws then kissed his nose. "Sly, promise me you won't get stupid if we're in danger. Promise me you'll stay calm and look before you leap. I don't want this baby to grow up without a father."

"I promise. But only if you promise me you won't get into trouble like you usually do. Don't go running headlong into danger," he said, placing his paws on her hips. "We make a good team. Let's not 'borrow trouble' as your father used to say."

"He's the reason Chief Barkley uses that phrase," she replied with a nod. Her palms lowered from his muzzle and reached for his paws. They interlaced their fingers together. "I _still_ can't believe I'm saying this to you… after all these years of chasing you… my younger self would have shot me over this marriage… but I love you. So let's both come back alive, okay?"

"You know it." He nuzzled his nose against hers then kissed her softly. "I love you, too, Carmelita. I know I don't show it well all the time but… it's true. One thing is for sure – I know how I feel about you and about us. It'll be sunset soon. I'm going to shower then get dressed for the gig."

She nodded then gave him a firm pat on the rump. Carmelita left the bedroom and sauntered out to where Penelope and Murray were sitting. AJ had since joined them and was the first to look up at the stealth-suit clad vixen. He offered a long, low whistle. His eyes lowered then lifted, drinking in her impressive figure. "Wow." He wanted to ask if she had a 'boob job' because her cup size was obviously larger from being pregnant, yet it was practically impossible to tell that her belly was even slightly distended the way the suit was designed. The bust cup designed into the suit gave it the illusion that she had a flat tummy and a larger-than-normal breast. Her hips were wide and, with the help of the suit's design, her hips shifted with every step she took.

"You can pick your jaw up off the floor," she murmured, secretly flattered by his reaction. The vixen placed a paw beneath the fox's jaw and lifted, closing his maw for him. "There… better."

"You look awesome," said Murray. "And you look like you could kick some major butt, too."

Penelope smiled. "Are the modifications okay? Do you need me to fix anything else or are you all set?"

Carmelita smiled. "No, thanks for your help. Penelope, you did a great job and it feels great – fantastic even. Very comfortable… and it does wonders for my figure, according to AJ's reaction. Are you sure you want to stay on the boat?"

"Don't misunderstand," said Penelope, "I'm staying on the boat, but not _this_ boat. Bentley and I will go with you to the island and help with taking a submarine. We're going to get another one and outfit it to be your escape vessel. We're going to give it offensive capabilities and use it to attack anything – basically if you have to fight your way out… you'll be set."

The vixen nodded. "How long will that take?"

"Hopefully we'll be done before you're ready to leave. But… a few hours to make it worth a darn."

"What about a stealth field or some sort of cloaking ability? Didn't Bentley invent one of those?"

The mouse nodded boisterously. "Yes, and it would work very well underwater. But we need it to fight first and foremost. If we can find the time, we'll add the cloaking ability for defensive purposes. Either way, it'll be far more useful than the one you utilize to get _into_ the dome."

"Fair enough. What if there isn't a second sub?"

"There is. There are three."

"How can you be sure?" asked the Inspector.

"Because," replied Penelope with a bright smile. "My remote control toy sub has night vision and I couldn't sleep last night…"

Carmelita looked absolutely delighted. "So you did recon! ¡Muy bien! What else did you learn?"

"We'll go over everything at the briefing after the sun goes down." After a brief pause, Penelope added, "The suit is very flattering to your figure. You, uh, you look real good, Mrs. Cooper."

"Please… just Carmelita."

Penelope grinned impishly. "Yeah, I know. I'd better go find Bentley so we can get ready." She stood up and walked down the hallway then disappeared into her quarters.

"Carmelita Fox." AJ licked his lips. "Your friend, Penelope, was right… your figure is _quite_…"

Murray slugged the fox in his arm. "Dude, that's Sly's wife. Show some respect, man. Seriously. You've got, like, no respect for women. That Saundra chick is married, Cleopatra is just using you for 'you-know-what' and _Mrs. Cooper_, which is what you should call her, is totally taken and totally _not_ interested in your awkward advances, Mr. Creepy McCreepster. Maybe you wouldn't be like this if you didn't distance yourself from everyone. You think you're dying soon, so you've made yourself all lonely but you don't even realize it. The definition of being manly isn't to see how macho you can be. The definition of manliness is, like, how awesome you treat women and to have self respect and be dependable so get with the program."

No one spoke but both sets of vulpine eyes locked on Murray. AJ and Carmelita looked at one another then back at Murray. AJ shook his head, stood up and walked away with a shrug. Carmelita turned back to Murray, chuckled with a shake of her head then retrieved a bag of jellybeans from a cupboard nearby. She tossed the bag on the table in front of him and said, "Here. You've _earned_ it," then left the living room.

Murray looked up, watched her leave then cradled the bag into his palms and excitedly whispered the word, "Score!"

* * *

X

**A steady breeze rushed across** the deck of the archaic aircraft carrier. Its deck-boards were showing signs of age. Some were warped and gnarled. Others were cracked and split in several areas. It was obviously unable to support aircraft anymore. Enormous cannons were mounted along the port and starboard side, illuminated by the waning luna from above.

Saundra Moore crept in low behind a guard. She sprung up, wrapping her arms around his head and, in one quick movement, guided his head to the left then right. He dropped to the deck, cradled in her arms. She rolled him over to the edge and eased him off the side. The splash was faint from the height above the waterline. She moved further down the deck and came up behind another guard.

Saundra reached for either side of his head but the guard was quick, throwing his head back. The key to snapping an enemy's neck was flexation followed by rotation. Seemingly skilled in self-defense, he threw his head back almost immediately, making it impossible to break his spine with a swift motion. He whirled about and hit her with his elbow, spinning her around. Quickly, the trained guard threw his arms around her from behind then interlaced his fingers.

Moore jerked her elbows outwards, striking the inside of his biceps to break his locked hands. Next, she brought her left paw up, grabbing at his opposite right paw. She bent his knuckles back, bringing him incredibly excruciating pain. The chipmunk stepped diagonally forward, turned towards him, and guided him around to a kneeling position with ease. She then initiated the movements from before. Her free paw came to his jaw, guiding it away then she released his knuckles and quickly brought her palm to the backside of his head, pushing with her palm and pulling with her other paw so that his neck broke. He became deadweight in a split second.

The attack didn't kill him but caused total paralysis. She rolled him to the edge of the aged deck then pushed him over the side. After a brief pause, she heard the body hit the water, knowing he'd sink and drown. She moved onwards, hunting for the next guard. She spotted another armed man and saw him starting to pivot on his heel.

She broke into a sprint, rushing silently on the balls of her feet. She gracefully executed a low kick, spinning around to keep the forward momentum from causing her to lose balance after such a sudden stop. In mid-spin, she wrapped her left arm around the man's neck so that his body went one way from the low kick at his knee but his head went the other way from the resulting headlock. Again, it didn't immediately kill him but he was unable to scream or move.

The chipmunk placed her right paw beneath his groin from behind and lifted him in a semi-suplex. He struck the deck at the edge then rolled away from her, flopping over the side. Half a second later, his body struck the water. Silence resumed.

Without warning, the entire deck became flooded in brilliant white lighting. Four spotlights rotated then came to land on her from four angles, creating multiple shadows behind her. She stood up slowly, clenching her paws in self-disappointment. Her ears perked, hearing footfalls followed by metallic clicks. While she couldn't see from the multiple spotlights in her eyes, she knew she had a group of men pointing weapons at her. The clicking sound was most likely the sound of the weapons being brought to the ready. She lowered her gaze, seeing little red and green dots dancing on her torso.

Reluctantly, her paws lifted. She placed them behind her head, interlacing her fingers, elbows out. "Wasn't I quiet enough?"

More footsteps – this time it was just one person. She could smell cigar smoke. "No, dummy. We have infrared surveillance cameras out here. Things changed after being infiltrated a few months ago. I'm the new head of security; you may address me as _Mister_ J. Cunningham. So, what's _your_ name, lil' girl?"

"Size six."

The man stepped into one of the spotlights so that she could only see his enormous silhouette. He glanced down at her feet then back up at her. "Is that your _shoe size_ lady?"

"Size six," she repeated, gazing straight through him as if she were looking at something fifty yards away.

"Real cute. So, what's your outfit? You with the United States or England?"

"Size six."

"How old are you, lady? Aren't you supposed to give me a birth date or rank?"

"Size six," she repeated casually.

"Okay, come on… instead of me asking questions, why don't we just have a conversation instead? Talk to me – tell me something; anything you want to talk about." He dropped a cigar on the deck and smothered it with his toe then kicked the ashes and remains in her direction.

Saundra licked her lips. "I wear a size six shoe. Depends on the style, though. Sometimes, if it's narrow at the end, it pinches my toes and creates a blister, so …on some occasions, I go with a six-and-a-half."

"Wound her." No sooner did he give the subtle order, a sniper from the conning tower fired a shot. No noise suppresser, she heard the sound long before she felt the bite despite popular belief and fiction novels. She'd always read that a character would feel pain from out of nowhere but… she felt nothing right away. Instead, she heard the shot. Three seconds passed.

Next, she felt a sting of heat. It was as if someone touched her with the tip of a hot poker. She instinctively brought her paws to her waist. Her body dropped to the deck as a reflexive action and blood began to pour out between her fingers. Her paws became slippery. She'd been clipped in the side, creating a painful flesh wound. She cursed beneath her breath from the grief.

"Oh, my dear size-six wearing chipmunk, it's unladylike to have such a filthy mouth. Now, tell me something I don't already know about you."

"I w…w…once wore my sibling's shoes without telling her. She's a size six, too."

"Take out a joint," he said, most likely over a radio. "I don't care which one… elbow, knee, shoulder… just take out a joint."

A rush of noise filled her ears, causing them to flicker. Like before, she heard a deafening sound but… this sound was different. Two more seconds passed. Instead of pain, she felt… _wet_. A large wave swept across the deck. When she looked up, trying to find her 'interrogator' he was gone, possibly washed right off the side of the ship. The floodlights moved away from her, suddenly racing across the deck as if searching for something. She looked around but her eyes were still pinholes, leaving her night-blind.

Someone screamed in the distance. Saundra perked her ears, grateful not to have been shot again. She heard the strangest sound… a distant song. She couldn't hear words but she was fairly sure she heard singing. Another dissonant scream rang out then became stifled.

Saundra got to her feet, still cradling the bloody mess just above her hip. She began to hobble towards the stern, seeing a woman in the darkness just up ahead. "Sissy?" she asked. She approached the shadowy female figure. "Sis, did you seriously come to rescue me?"

A man's body was thrown to the deck in front of Saundra's feet. She looked down as she stepped over him only to realize that he was split open. His ribs were sticking upwards with an enormous gash in his chest. Most of the organs were missing – it looked as though a shark had eaten him but then threw the man back for some reason. The ghastly expression on the man's face was as scary as the strange wound.

She approached the woman from an angle. "Cleo?"

"I'm not your sister," said the woman with a melodic voice. "Thank you for throwing all those tasty morsels into the water a few minutes ago. I'm not here to rescue you – my kind doesn't help your kind." She froze and looked outwards over the starboard side, watching something in the distance. "Depth charges? Someone is setting off _depth charges_ out there?"

Saundra turned towards the water, still trying to apply pressure to the massively painful area where she'd suffered a non-lethal sniper round. She didn't see water spray nor did she hear anything. "One of my people is attacking that underwater dome. Who are you; where are you from?" A pause, then, "Why did you help me?"

"I'm the stuff of your legends and fantasies; I was born just off the Isle of Capri. I grew up off the Amalfi Coast. Once upon a time we littered the skies _and_ the seas but now we hide in the deep to avoid detection. Unlike some, I don't fly – I swim. I approve of your un-sanctioned mission to destroy that dome. I've answered your questions, and only out of respect for throwing me live meals. Speak of this to no one." Another enormous wave towered over the side of the ship. It crashed down, causing the archaic carrier to shift forty-five degrees. The woman was gone and Saundra found herself sliding along the lumpy old wooden boards of the rotting flight deck.

In a matter of seconds, the chipmunk's feet met the conning tower. The ship began to tilt more, unstable in the shallow beach sand. It rolled away from the deeper water of the ocean and came to land in a lagoon on its side. The water came even with the conning tower, so that it was partially submerged but not the side where Saundra now settled. She looked around but everyone else had already been washed off the deck. She sat on the side-turned conning section all alone and in pain from her injury.

* * *

X

**Meanwhile, further out in the Atlantic**, Cleopatra and Murray looked at one another then back out to the distant island. She lifted the night vision binoculars and squinted in them. "The ship looks different but it's too far to see what has changed. She said she was going to stay quiet – what the hell happened out there?"

"I'm ready with the next depth charge," Murray replied.

"Hold off for a moment," Cleo replied, keeping the binoculars to her face. "I want to know what's going on out there. Sounds like a tidal wave in the distance. I heard metal in the distance… like when nails are scratched over a chalkboard but it was far away."

"Beats me," said Murray. "I'm ready to drop this sucker whenever you say."

"In a moment… just hold tight," replied Cleo Moore. "But either way, curiosity is getting the better of me. I want to know what's going on out there. I didn't see an explosion and the ship's outline looks different than before. If I didn't know any better, I would think it somehow rolled over; I don't see the conning tower's outline."

The strong hippo sat down, sliding the depth charge from his shoulder onto the deck, safely. "Isn't that a possibility?"

"The ship rolling over? Maybe… but I don't see how it's feasible," replied the woman. "I hope AJ, Carmelita and Sly are having better luck than us."

"I'm sure they're okay. I'm ready to drop another depth charge. I wanna blow something up. These things are cool."

"In due time," she murmured, her attention still on the open water, facing towards the distant island.

* * *

X

**"Just like before,"** said Agent Jacob White. He piloted the small maintenance sub through an opening in the dome, continued to the end of a large tube than began to ascend at the elbow joint. The sub surfaced in a large industrial complex, seemingly void of people. He moved to the concrete edge and powered down the machine. Carmelita and Sly were the first ones off.

AJ was next, pulling himself up the ladder and through the hatch. He put his foot on the flat deck of the submarine's top then fell backwards, unceremoniously upon his backside. He heard Carmelita call up to him but couldn't reply from having the air knocked out of his lungs. His paw went to his torso, feeling where he now had a hole in his shirt. His fingers found a lump embedded in his Kevlar vest. He cursed in silence, trying to whisper the words, "They were ready for us this time… hide." His breathless words went unheard.

"Stay back," Sly warned his wife. "He's not the kind of guy to just fall and not get back up." As the agent lay there atop the sub, he silently applauded Sly Cooper's logic and listened to their fading footsteps as they moved into hiding positions. He lay there, trying to relax his body. He felt like bait. He told himself that so long as he didn't get up, the sniper would probably assume he was actually injured. After a moment or so, AJ found his breath.

"That was unexpected," he said. His voice echoed in the warehouse setting.

"You going to need another tampon?" asked Carmelita from somewhere beyond his line of sight.

"Perish the thought." AJ coughed then told them, "I'm not going anywhere or the next bullet may be far more lethal. Are you two safe?"

The vixen ignored his question by asking one of her own. "Can you fight?"

"I'll fight until I'm dead."

"We're not leaving you here to die," she said. "Hold tight."

Jake sighed, wishing her words were disinformation. For some reason, he assumed she meant what she said, which meant they were in danger. "Just go. Finish what we've started."

"Shut up and quit being so stubborn." Her voice was scolding but he couldn't see where she was located.

AJ sat up slowly on his elbows, propping his head against the ring around the hatch. He kept his actions slow so as to appear injured. All at once, thick smoke billowed up around him. He felt Sly's strong grip then he felt himself thrown over the lithe man's shoulder. Jake looked up again, seeing the smoke begin to fade. "Crap… better hurry, sport. Your smoke trick isn't lasting very long."

"I'm trying," Sly grunted under the weight of another person. A gunshot rang out. The round cut through the smoke, striking the rim of the hatch then angling into the water. "Great." He hurried off the sub and tried to rush towards safety.

Meanwhile, Carmelita peered over a set of crates, watching the boys make haste. Her eyes cut back towards the water, seeing it churn. Her ears perked and her nose twitched with curiosity.

A gleaming flash of red captured her attention up in the rafters. Her quick mind raced to the realization that a laser pointer dot was most likely dancing on her face.

The water in the large rectangular pool began to lift, causing the submarine to shift hard. It struck the concrete siding, almost being pushed out of the water. A pillar of liquid, similar to a waterspout, rose straight up into the air like a pillar. The top of the spout met with the catwalk and rafters high above, followed by a shrill squeal. The Inspector couldn't tell if it was a masculine or feminine scream.

A US M110 sniper rifle lay on the ground near her. It had a rail-mounted camera, which was still operating. It displayed infrared black and white footage. She lifted it upwards and saw a woman in the rafters with her hands around the throat of a man wearing combat gear. He struggled for his life, trying to pull her hands away from his throat. His feet were about six inches above the catwalk, toes pointed down as if trying to find footing. The woman held him aloft in her left hand by his neck then brought her right hand to his chest.

Carmelita's eyes widened, watching the small screen in horror. All at once, she looked away in disgust. Her ears flickered, hearing AJ's voice. "What did you see, Inspector?"

She lowered the weapon to the ground and said, "Fate helping us out. The sniper is dead."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. He's dead… very dead. Let's hurry. Clockwerk is probably here and he needs to be destroyed before they take that body back again."

"I hope you have a plan," said AJ. "I wonder how Bentley and Penelope are coming along with that second sub…"

"She always has a plan and I'm sure they're doing just fine," said Sly as the trio hurried out of the warehouse. He moved closer to his wife and whispered, "What did you see?"

"Something I want to forget," she murmured. "Something that takes 'wicked' to the next level." Carmelita tried to exorcise the image of the grainy soldier having his heart ripped out and eaten. She grit her teeth together and muttered the word, "Jesus."

* * *

X

**Bentley looked up** at the distant aircraft carrier then back at the sub he was working on. The turtle sighed and climbed back into the hatch with a metal part in his left hand. His bionic leg attachments hissed in near silence as he stepped down into the lower deck. He approached his mate with the mechanical device and said, "Tah-dah."

"So did you get a good look at the old carrier?"

"Sure did." He offered a firm nod. He handed her the part then said, "You'd think the whole island would be on high alert with a ton of lights over there. I wonder what caused it and if Saundra Moore is okay."

"Heck if I know." Penelope took the part and climbed back under the control panel. She began tinkering again. "This thing is going to surprise the heck out of everybody when we're finished."

"I wish I could help with that part."

She wore an unseen smile. "Bentley, I know your shell is too large to fit under this panel. Don't worry about it. I'm going to run this line into a cable with a red bar on the jacket."

He moved back down the deck of the small submersible and opened a panel on the rear wall. The tortoise took a wire testing kit off of his hip and began touching it to a relay board until the meter on his tester jumped to the right. "Okay, I found the right jack. Ready?"

"Yup."

He picked up a cable on the ground, plugged it into the relay then led the other end of the thick wire to a box recently bolted into the wall. He plugged the lead into the device then powered it on. A light flashed up front on the control dash. "I can see from here that it's working. You want me to go outside and see if it disappears?"

"Sure."

Bentley moved back to the middle of the sub and took a ladder up to the hatch. He made it to the upper deck just in time to see two soldiers on the beach coming their way. He looked down at the hull of the sub, which blinked curiously in and out of visibility. He quickly descended the ladder and said, "There's a loose connection, it's going in and out of cloak… but there are two men coming across the beach towards us. Their weapons are drawn!"

"Ack!" Penelope slid out from under the control panel and reached for a wrench. "Let's hide in the storage compartment, wait for them to board then ambush'em!"

"Th… that sounds feasible." He opened the nearest tool closet then tried to squeeze into it. "Oh no, my shell is… ah, why does this always happen to me?"

"Just hide in the shell at the back and I'll get into the storage closet." She slid inside and pulled the door shut.

Bentley looked around then hurried to the back. He knew his bionic leg attachments wouldn't fit into the shell like his arms and head; his heart was racing. He heard footsteps up on the top. Beads of sweat began to run down his head. He adjusted his glasses, swallowed and reached for the metal panel to the relay switch box.

A small canister dropped down through the hatch. Bentley peered out through his shell then pulled his head back down inside and placed his hands on either side of his ears, tightly. He felt the vibration of the flashbang but managed to protect his eyes and ears. Footfalls sounded on the ladder rungs.

"Penelope, get ready!" he whispered only to groan in realization that she probably didn't hear him because of the magnesium device. His head popped up out of his shell and he could see the legs of the first soldier. His arms eased back out and he took the metal panel into his hands for lack of a better weapon. The man dropped to the deck and turned towards the controls with his weapon pointed forward. The second soldier's feet were on the ladder where Bentley could see the combat boots. His heart began racing again.

The first soldier opened a storage locker, closer to the front. He pointed his weapon inside but it was empty then he opened another, jamming the barrel of his gun into it. Nothing. "You check the back of the sub. Shoot first, to hell with questions."

"You got it."

Bentley swallowed hard. It was up to him – Penelope was obviously unable to hear what was going on from the deafening flashbang. He was the only one capable of saving the woman of his affections. He didn't want the second soldier to have the chance to bring his weapon up. He had to act now, while it was still pointed at the floor.

Bentley charged forward, aided by the power of his bionic walking apparatus. His aggressive footfalls caught the attention of both soldiers. The one up front pivoted on his foot, weapon at the ready. Bentley's shelled shoulder met the second soldier, who was closer. He hit the man so hard that the soldier's head snapped up and the man stumbled backwards. The man's head slammed against the ladder, striking three of the lower rungs before he landed on the floor.

The soldier up front opened fire. Bentley felt a powerful sting in his palms from the impact of a three-shot-burst against the metal panel in his grip. Charged up on adrenaline, he continued racing forward. A metal foot came down on the chest of the nearest soldier. His bionic legs auto-adapted to keep him from stumbling. He easily plowed over the man and continued forward towards the other.

"Banzai!" He didn't even realize he shouted it. The turtle, his large shell and the metal panel collided with the gunner, mowing him down. The gunner pulled the trigger again as he toppled backwards. His head struck a classic nautical steering wheel, causing it to spin wildly. He landed beneath it. The pegs struck the man in the face repeatedly as the wheel spun freely. The gun went off yet again. Another triplet, sounding like a marching snare in close quarters, stung the turtle's ears and hands.

His hands hurt so badly now that he simply threw the dimpled metal cover at the man. It hit him in the solar plexus, stunning him. His arms went limp and he gasped for air.

The turtle reached for the weapon but his palms ached from holding the metal panel earlier and taking nine rounds in rapid succession. He couldn't manage to close his fingers around the gun well enough to take control of it but he _did_ manage to pull it out of the soldier's reach.

With both of his hands practically numb, Bentley took the opportunity to start punching the man in the face repeatedly. He pulled the guy out from beneath the wheel and hit him three more times then a fourth.

"Bentley!"

He turned to look over his shoulder, seeing a gun pointed in his face. Apparently he'd forgotten about the second soldier. A visible lump lifted then settled in his throat; his glasses reflected the barrel of the rifle just inches from his nose. "What… I really meant… uh, was 'bonsai'… it's, uh, the art of pruning small trees and, uh…"

Rather suddenly the gun was pulled back from his face. The man dropped to the floor, motionless, with Penelope standing behind, holding a large wrench in her paws. "He's gunna be hurting in the morning. That's for sure." She reached the wrench to him and he pulled himself up. They came nose to nose in the small enclosure, causing both to blush somewhat. "So, uh, you wanna help me pull these guys up and out and throw'em on the beach?"

"S…sure." He turned away, almost reluctantly, and aimed his watch towards each soldier, shooting a sleep dart into each soldier. "Okay, uh… yeah. You're really hot with that wrench."

"You mowed down two armed men. I'm _really_ impressed, Bentley." She offered him a kiss. After a moment, she brought her paws to his cheeks and patted softly then relinquished the soft liplock.

The turtle picked up the first guy, heaved him on the shell so as not to need to carry him then he used the power of his leg attachments to carry him up the ladder. A moment later, he came back for the second. "I feel a little stronger than before," he murmured. "Thanks for the kiss." He took the second guy to the ladder and said, "I, uhm, like I said before… the cloak was going on and off. Could be a loose connection." Then he carried the second guy up, using the power of his legs to get the man up the ladder.

* * *

X

**Sly placed his cane in front of his wife.** "Let me. I know you can do just about anything a man can do while in high heels and all that… but I prefer to be the one putting myself in danger. What can I say? I'm protective of you."

AJ shouldered his way between them, shoving the couple apart. "I'll do it because I'm _dying_ from an enormous tumor in my head. Watch my back."

Carmelita groaned. "You'll just _bleed_ on everything."

"Tis a fleshwound," he replied, quoting Monty Python.

"Oh, please, don't start quoting British comedy movies." Carmelita came to an archway and peered around it. "Damn this city is empty." She cut her eyes back to a nearby sign on a post that read, 'Evacuate to your designated public shelter space.' She clenched her jaw and said, "Let's stay low. Look over there… the building where I saw Clockwerk last time is across the way. C'mon, we're almost there."

The trio hurried across the street, down an alley and up the next block. They approached the museum from their last trip, coming up behind the building. Carmelita turned to Sly and abruptly slapped him then said, "You deserve that." She turned to AJ and said. "You deserve much worse… but karma has already dealt you enough of a shitty hand in life so… I won't smack you."

Cooper brought his paw to his cheek. "Geeze." Something caught his eye and he balked. "Clockwerk!" He pointed his finger forward at seven soldiers taking photos of one another sitting up on top of the mechanical monstrosity. It appeared that Clockwerk was in a state of constant rebooting, unable to 'wake up' as it were. "This is out chance, guys. We take out these jokers then we can sabotage Clockwerk while he's unable to do anything. Then we release him and shoot him down with that satellite."

"Satellite?" asked AJ.

"Long story," replied Carmelita. She turned to her husband and said, "You remember what Bentley showed you, right? You can do whatever it is you're supposed to do to his inner joints in order to make the blast effective against his body?"

"Yeah, piece of cake." Sly beamed, readying himself for a tussle. "Let's go bust some tails."

"Hold it." A fourth voice came from behind. The trio turned around, coming face to face with three rifles. "You're not going _anywhere_ except with us."

"Ten on three," said AJ. "At gunpoint, no less. This should be interesting."

Carmelita gritted her teeth. "Your definition of 'interesting' differs from _my_ definition. This is more like… 'screwed'."

The first soldier said, "You three should have gone to the public shelters. What you three have seen is classified and we can't let you leave. You'll tell others."

"Let's see some identification. Where's your PID?" asked another.

"PID?" asked AJ. "I, uh, I'm used to it being called something else. I guess I learned the slang for it… what's PID stand for again?"

"Your Public Identification Display." He drew out an electronic-looking wallet. "One of these."

"Uhm." Carmelita smiled innocent. "I left them in my other pants."

The third soldier gritted his teeth, growling through them. "They're _spies_. They're obviously not from here." He shouted over to the other seven soldiers near Clockwerk's motionless form. "HEY! These three are infiltrators! Get over here – we need backup!"

The other seven quickly withdrew their weapons and surrounded the trio at gunpoint. Sly stepped in front of Carmelita, sandwiching her between himself an AJ protectively. "Isn't this the part where you take us to your leader?"

"No," said one of the gunmen. "He's too busy for the likes of an intruder."

Another said. "This _isn't_ the part where we take you to our leader," said another. "This is the part where you _die_!" He switched off the safety on his weapon. Nine more clicks were heard all around them.

Carmelita looked around the circle of weapons and muttered, "Hijo de puta."

"What was that, little girl?" said one of the men, fluent in Spanish. "You'd better wash your mouth out with soap, Mamon."

The vixen's jaw dropped at the insult. "Vete a la chingada," she growled, adding, "Vete a la verga."

The soldier stepped forward, placing his rifle barrel against her forehead. "Shame to waste such a hot little puta but… you know what they say… ladies first." He brought his thumb to the trigger guard then to the trigger.

"Ojala que meuras," she said then spit at him.

"Fiery temper, little girl." The man smiled, trying to look macho to his nine associates. "Maybe I'll beat her around _then_ kill her, just for fun. What you guys say, huh? Should I throw her around first?"

"Bring it on, punetero," said Carmelita, obviously livid but bottling it. "How about a fist fight – no weapons, just our fists."

"No, you dumb puta. I'm going to make you suffer _then_ kill you. No fighting. I'm going to make you hate life." He reached for his zipper. "Pongalo en su boca, puta."

Quite suddenly the unattended Clockwerk revived from a lack of attention. With the soldiers no longer using the suppression field invented by the leader of this domed city, his brain was able to boot up. His enormous body lifted to the ready, no longer the small person-sized body he'd been plugged into a few months ago… No, this was the original Clockwerk body made by Steven less than a year ago. The new and improved form, ready for revenge. He threw his wings outwards. The intense wave of air bowled down all thirteen people with ease. His electronic voice was loud to their ears. "You _ALL_ will die and when I punch a hole in the top of this dome, it will surely flood, killing whoever remains!"

Carmelita landed safely atop of AJ and Sly, draped over them. She sat up, gazing at the enormous monstrosity that towered over the group. She swallowed, feeling defenseless – even more so than just a minute ago. The vixen licked her lips, swallowed again and whispered to herself. "Mierda."

* * *

X

A/N: _Tahdah! Some action! Well, my pretties, I'll wrap it up here for now. I hope you enjoyed! We'll see how this ends soon enough. For those of you who have read Dawn of Progeny already, you know how this situation turns out. But if you've not… or if you forgot… well… Let's just look at the facts… Carmelita wasn't afraid of ten rifles in her face… but she seems a little nervous with Clockwerk bellowing around in anger, huh? xD_

_Okay! See you guys soon! I look forward to getting the next update finished. See ya' then!_


	25. Twist of Fate

Chapter -25-  
"Twist of Fate"

"**Is THAT Clockwerk?"** AJ asked, watching as the monstrosity opened its wings, throwing several soldiers head-over-heels. They flew overtop Sly and Carmelita and landed in the street, splayed out unnaturally.

"Hey, big guy. Long time no see," said Sly, staying in front of his wife. "Looks like you got your body back without my help." He glanced back at the motionless group of soldiers then towards Clockwerk once more.

Clockwerk brought his enormous metallic wings down like fists, cracking the pavement less than six feet away from Sly. The remaining guards started shooting at him with energy weapons and rifles but the large metallic owl appeared fully unfazed. "We have unsettled business, Cooper! …But it will have to wait."

"It will…?" Sly murmured.

Carmelita spoke almost in unison to her newlywed husband. "It will?" she repeated.

"YES," roared the owl, standing back up fully. He swung his wings outwards again, dicing through three of the four remaining soldiers. Carmelita quickly turned away from the gore. Sly kept his eyes on Clockwerk, who rotated his head like a real owl and told them, "We have a common enemy in this city. We _must_ unite to destroy him together."

AJ whispered to Sly and Carmelita. "Let's just fire the Zeus cannon on this spot. You guys have control of it; you just said you would shoot him with a satellite. Just hit him right here, right now. The dome is clear and will act as a magnification device, like a lens. Let's just end it with this thing right now. You two _do_ control the device, correct?"

"Slow down," said Sly in reply. "I need to hear him out. I don't want to shoot ourselves in the foot – he's a computer and has done the math. If he feels the only way to take down this dome is through teamwork then it's obvious we need each other."

Clockwerk moved towards them. The last guard took refuge near the building's dock. The owl drew a large wing back. "My math variables include Carmelita and Sly Cooper. This third wheel isn't necessary and, now that I know he wishes to destroy me, I do not trust him." And without warning, he brought his wing back down towards AJ.

The vulpine agent dove to evade certain death but the wing still clipped him. While narrowly avoiding death by being severed in half, the wing caught him on the follow-through upswing, launching him into an alley.

"JACOB!" shouted Carmelita. Before she could hurry after him, Clockwerk brought the wing back down, blocking her from going to the agent's aid.

The mechanical voice was only slightly more natural than Clockwerk's original voice, years ago. "He isn't necessary. We should begin our assault on our enemy."

"WHO is our enemy?" Sly demanded with his paws outstretched.

"Doctor Alfonse M—" A bright light came down from above, surrounding Clockwerk and temporarily blinding everyone else. Carmelita and Sly found themselves thrown backwards.

Sly hit the ground with a groan, Carmelita landed upon him. His arms instinctively wrapped around her to protect her from physical injury. He cradled her in his embrace then rolled over, moving atop of her. Specks of dust and debris rained down over them, causing the couple to clench their eyes.

Several seconds passed and Sly sat up. He glanced around but there was no sign of Clockwerk. "Crater," he said softly before clearing his throat and repeating himself somewhat louder.

"Pardon?" Carmelita sat up and saw a crater in the asphalt. It was a mere eight inches deep but the blacktop appeared softened from heat. The vulpine inspector got to her feet and hurried into the alley after AJ White. She knelt down besides him and rolled him onto his back then sighed in relief. "You're alive."

"I've been better," he said. "Carmelita, I have a secret to tell you. I've come here with the intention of not leaving." He saw the confusion on her face and said, "This is a suicide mission for me. Do you seriously think the Moores' would have agreed to a three-way if I was likely going to live?"

The vixen offered a moue of disgust. "Jesus, Jacob. I thought he killed you; you're over here thinking about last night on the yacht, you pervert. Get up and let's go."

Jake sat up and frowned. "I'm serious. I'm _not_ going home today."

"What are you talking about? What's the point?"

"I planned to destroy this place while you two got away. The government can't do anything – they'll think it was an accident. But the truth is I've chosen to go rogue and take this place out."

"You're a fool." Her ears perked and she looked up. A roar of sound followed causing everyone to cover their ears. She kept her eyes on the top of the dome, seeing something high above. "What… the hell is _that_?" Her words were lost to the rumble in the background.

Jacob read her lips then lifted his eyes. His gaze widened with fear. The sound subsided. "…Satellite!" he shouted as the noise concluded. "That bright light… must have taken it down! The loud noise we just heard was the satellite landing atop of this dome just now. Didn't you see it?"

Carmelita stood up, glancing back to her husband. She looked back to Jake, offering him a paw. "The light was an attack on Clockwerk. He's vanished. What are _you_ talking about? You didn't see it because you were back here."

Jacob stood without the vixen's offered help. "That thing you saw bounce off the top of the dome was the Zenith Satellite… the Zeus Cannon! It must have been shot down and crashed into the ocean."

"But how could it have landed right _here_," she argued. "You must be wrong. Those things typically burn up in the atmosphere and crash randomly somewhere on this planet."

Sly brought a paw to his ear. "I'm here, Bentley. What's going on? …Well… it doesn't much matter at this point – Clockwerk was just vaporized in an attack. I don't see a single trace of him." A brief pause, then he said, "It's probably for the best that thing is gone. We saw it hit the dome." Another pause then Sly said, "_Magnetic_ _beam_, huh? Well, that explains things. Don't worry – so far, we're fine and everything is okay. Just stand by for right now." He lowered his paw and said, "Well, gang, apparently that _was_ the satellite weapon we just saw."

Cooper's ear twitched then he brought his paw back to his ear. "Yeah? Yeah, I'm …really? It does? Well how does it work? Wait, hold on…" Sly pulled his binoc-u-com out of his pocket, unpaired it from the Bluetooth earpiece and set it to speakerphone mode.

Bentley's voice came in loud and clear over the device, despite Sly having it beneath the ocean. "Listen, everyone, I still have a computer uplink established with the Zeus Cannon. Instead of routing through a satellite dish, I'm connected to it directly by beaming a signal from the boat to the satellite. Apparently it didn't burn up upon atmospheric reentry and it wasn't destroyed when it hit the water."

"Well, it's hard to point it in the right direction," said Carmelita, approaching her husband and the communicator.

"That's what I need to talk to you guys about. If we can use a maintenance sub, the kind with the arms on the front, we can point it towards the Island. Soldiers are on the island; innocents are in the dome. If we take out the island, we sever the Atlantis Dome from the rest of the world. They'll have to surrender to keep from starving."

"Unless they learn how to self-sustain," said Jake. "I'll take the sub and find the satellite. If it's still somehow transmitting some sort of signal, I should be able to track it, correct?"

"Ah, yes, that's quite correct," said Bentley over the communicator. "But the problem is… it needs to be held so it doesn't shift with the current. And anyone within range of it will surely be vaporized along with anything in its way. We need to point it at the island to destroy it."

Jake smiled inwardly. "I'm up for the job."

"This is insanity," Carmelita growled. "There are other ways. This self-sacrificial _bullshit_ is unnecessary!"

Jake saw her reach for his arm. He brushed away from her. "You _know_ I'm terminal. Allow me the honor to die for a _cause_."

"It's a needless death!" she argued.

Jake turned away from her. "You're _pregnant_ with the child of a _raccoon_. Don't think I didn't know – I'm in the business of intelligence. But, despite how awkward it is to hear of a fox bearing the offspring of a 'coon, that baby will never see the light of day if we don't do our jobs. I'm doing the mission, Inspector Carmelita _Cooper_. Deal with it. I had my fun last night with Saundra and Cleo and I've done everything I wanted to do with my life. Now, allow me to have the control to end it the way _I_ want to end it and NOT in a hospital bed; _I_ have the God-given right to control MY destiny the way I wish."

She ground her teeth together. "I don't understand your need to go out as a hero, you stupid, racist, misogynist, piece of…" She found herself interrupted by the agent.

Jacob threw his arms outwards. "I want to die with my boots on, OKAY?" He approached Sly and snatched the communicator from the thief's paw. "Give me that, boy wonder." He cleared his throat and said, "Tortoise, I need your help in pulling off this mission. Don't let them persuade you differently – at this point, they're thinking with their emotions."

Sly sighed and pulled his wife into his arms. He murmured into her ear. "Just let him do what he wants to do. We don't need a wildcard getting us killed. I wanted him here to help protect you but… this is the only way he seems to know how to protect _anyone_. Just… let him go."

She scowled, paws clenched. "Fine. Whatever." She turned to AJ and smacked him across the muzzle. "Jacob White, you're a racist prick. You've lost what little respect I had for you." Then she leaned forward and kissed the side of his face. Her voice softened. "But thank you for offering to give your life to ensure Sly and I make it out of here safely with our baby. Who do I notify as your next of kin?"

Jacob brought his paw to his cheek where she smacked then kissed him. "Tyrell Antoine Jones (A/N: _C23 – Dawn of Progeny_). He's an African hyena who works for the CIA. He's my best friend and was my roommate throughout college and the eight years after graduation. We were frat boys together. We've shared chicks back in college – he's the closest thing I have to family. He'll want to know so he can make funeral arrangements. I left him everything – big TV, cash, little black book, you name it."

Carmelita lifted her paws, again, with a look of disgust. "Learn to leave out certain details, Jacob. I don't care if you two tag-teamed one-night-stand girls. God, you're a bigger dirtbag creep than anyone else I've ever met."

He smiled. "The government is _full_ of perverts. Not everyone is as innocent and black 'n' white as yourself and your mate. Now…" He turned away from her, holding the communicator. "Let's plan this out, Mr. Wiseturtle. Impress me – live up to your name."

* * *

X

**Jacob White placed a paw on the lever** and smiled, watching as the mechanical arms on the front of the sub lifted the satellite into position. "Okay, Bentley. I'm ready." The sub continued forward towards the island, closing the gap between the satellite's remains and the island shore to maximize destruction probability.

"Understood, Mr. White. The Island should be clear but we can't verify it just yet. Everyone is now back on the yacht and accounted for except Saundra."

"She knows the risks. We have a very small window of opportunity, here." He cracked his knuckles then said, "Tell the sisters I said… well, I can't think of anything clever so… scratch that." He gasped, feeling an arm around his throat. Jake found himself dragged out of the seat in a headlock. His legs struck the control console, pushing the throttle bar up to 'flank speed'.

Jacob reached for the arm around his neck, being pulled to the floor. He glanced up at his attacker, recognizing the man as the soldier who escaped Clockwerk's wrath earlier. He struggled, unable to move because the powerful arm around his neck. He tried to bite at the throat of the attacker but couldn't get his head back far enough. He could see the man's chin, looking up at the attacker helplessly.

"Jacob?" Bentley's voice went unanswered. "Agent White are you still there?"

The fox jerked his head forward then back, striking his attacker in the collarbone but the soldier held tight. The sub shuddered hard, the aft section dragging along the bottom of the seabed.

White found himself free, sliding along the deck to the port side. He rolled up against the wall and tried to close his legs around the other man's waist while reaching for some way to gain the upper hand. Imperfections in the ocean floor caused the sub to roll to the right. The two flopped to the starboard section, grasping for anything they could. The submarine continued at high speed towards the island.

* * *

X

**Moore grunted softly**, moving across the side of the old conning tower. A porthole nearby caused water to bubble up, creating a puddle about an inch deep. She continued through it to the far end, looking for a way off the aging ship. She heard something in the distance and peered out into the night sky. A white cigarette boat raced from the island.

She withdrew binoculars from her gear and zoomed in. A hulking large man was at the wheel of the boat with a cigar in his right hand. "You must be that guy, Cunningham," she murmured softly. Saundra scanned the beachfront then smiled brightly. "Jackpot!" She packed the binoculars away again and dove into the water. It didn't take very long to reach the other side of the lagoon. She raced across the beach back towards the oceanfront and made her way up a pier to where several boats were moored.

She hotwired the starter with ease and disconnected the ropes from the cleats. Her heart jumped simultaneous to a loud sound further down the beach. Again, she drew out the binoculars from her waterproof gear pack and squinted in the darkness.

A strange looking object had run aground with the waves lapping at it. She couldn't see what it was in the dark but, to her, it looked like trouble. Saundra jerked down on the throttle, reversing the motorboat from the dock. She cut the wheel then pushed it forwards, headed out to sea at full speed.

* * *

X

**Jacob grunted.** He brought his elbow back against the soldier's chin and wiggled away. No sooner did he free himself the entire sub slammed into the shore. Both he and the attacker fell forward again.

Bentley's voice came over the radio again. "Agent White! You've made it all the way to the beach! Look, there's a change of plan! See if you can find a method of transportation then get yourself out of there. My computer says the satellite's remains have now been damaged 'beyond operating parameters.' However, I can still overload it. It was designed with a backup countermeasure… the explosion consists of firing the cannon while damaged. It should obliterate the whole island, but that will give you time to get away. Hurry!"

Jacob reached for the radio but the attacker pounced him from behind, causing both to fall back to the deck. Because of the angle at which they were beached, both men went sliding towards the aft section. His ears perked, hearing the muffled sound of a motorboat racing away.

The soldier's arm slid beneath his neck again, resuming the headlock. "Tell him to call it off."

"Agent White?" called Bentley.

The fox, through clenched molars, said, "Are you ready to die? You have time to escape and take a boat out of here. But you're not going to save this island."

"I'm not here to save the island, I'm here to report its whereabouts to Artimus Crowell."

White struggled in the man's grip. "Who the hell is that?"

"You're CIA, right? Don't you have files on Author Cogwell's fifth great grandson?" He put his foot on White's back and shoved him forward, against the bulkhead. "Surly you know Author Cogwell, the man who accidentally created an energy generator that wiped out an entire city in Russia."

White grunted, trying to get out from beneath the man's powerful feet that held him against the side. "N-nghh.. Nev-never heard of'em."

"You can't destroy this island just yet. I need it to find the Atlantis Dome again. Once I've given the location to my employer, you can blow this island to hell for all I care. But not until then."

"You're not bringing in _anyone_," said Jake. He brought his paw back, caught the soldier beneath the knee and pushed away from the bulkhead. He rolled over and bought his fist into the man's neck, crushing the soldier's windpipe. "So you're a double agent, pretending to work for that idiot down on the dome. So you helped to try and bring down Clockwerk. Guess what? I'm not impressed." He punched the man in the face several times then rushed up to the front of the sub and reached for the radio. "Bentley! I've been compromised by an attacker. Give me a minute to get his identification then I'll…" A gunshot rang out. Jacob gurgled in pain, feeling the wound in his chest.

He reached down to the Kevlar vest, seeing that a bullet had gone completely through the vest and out through his chest. Water began to pour in through the cracked window at the front of the small sub. He sucked in a breath, wheezing in pain, then said, "Blow it _now_."

"Come again?" Bentley exclaimed. "NOW?"

"Hurry," Jacob added, unable to catch his breath. He dropped to the sub's seat, draped over the armrests then he flopped to the deck on his right hip. He looked back at the soldier who couldn't speak either. He glared at the man's gun then smirked. "Looks like…" he coughed then continued. "…Won't get to read your latest report on Clockwerk, the island or anything else." The soldier was unable to speak because of his crushed windpipe.

The water pouring in through the front of the sub turned hot. Jacob eased up on an elbow, looking up over the controls. The remains of the satellite, seen through the cracked window, began to incandesce with a soft white color emanating from its core. Jake glanced back at the soldier with the gun, grinned, and said, "See you in hell, pal."

* * *

X

**A bright flash** startled Saundra. Only a second later, an intense wave of hot wind rushed over her, knocking her to the motorboat's deck. She held her arms over her head to protect her face from the intensity of the heat. It passed, followed by a powerful blast. She got to her knees and reached for the throttle, slowing her boat. In the distance, she saw the most impressive fireball she'd ever witnessed in her lengthy CIA career. It illuminated the night sky and reflected off the water.

Powerful wake followed, rocking the boat wildly. She got back to all fours and waited for the chop to die down but… it didn't end. The ocean, churned up and now angry, tossed the boat about, causing whitecaps that splashed salty water over the gunwale. She struggled back to the chair and hit the throttle, trying to head back towards the black yacht in the distance.

She struggled, gripping the wheel while reaching with her other paw to an emergency box built into the side of the boat, beneath the throttle box. The boat rocked wildly, occasionally offering the sound of the propeller out of the water. The buzzing sound disappeared as the outboard's prop was submerged again.

She fidgeted with the emergency box then withdrew a flare gun and fired it straight into the air. Seconds later, she saw the black yacht's deck lights in the distance. Spotlights came to life, pointing in all directions on the side of the large vessel. Saundra cut the wheel to the right. The yacht moved from starboard until it was lined up with the stern. She gunned the engine, fighting with the wheel to keep control in the now-choppy water.

The smell of charred wood and burning metal became significantly greater than the smell of saltwater. She dropped the flair gun and took the wheel in both paws, struggling to maintain control of the motorboat.

* * *

X

**Sly brought a finger to his** Bluetooth earpiece. "I'm here, Bentley. What's going on?"

"I'm terribly sorry to tell you… but Agent Jacob White is gone. He asked me to detonate the satellite then was abruptly shot. I asked him to confirm his last demand, to which he whispered the word, 'hurry'. The island is gone, now, too."

Cooper sighed with a nod. "He seemed like he was in a hurry, alright. It's a shame. Anyway, I'll let you know what's going on as soon as possible. We're trying to sneak out of here but we're hiding in an alley. The security just got crazy thick really quick. I guess I know why, now." He lifted his head and whispered to his wife, "The whole island is gone. That's probably why the whole place is crawling with armed guards all of a sudden."

"What about Jake?"

Cooper frowned and shook his head. "I'm sorry."

She scowled in anger. "That fool. He's supposed to be here to help us get through the streets so we can get out of here safely. I can't believe he ran off to take out a target that we could have destroyed later on."

"I'm sure he had his reasons for doing things in this order," Sly reassured her. He then said, "Bentley, you still there? Do we have a way to destroy this dome?"

"Not directly but without the island acting as a go-between, the people on the dome will eventually starve. I theorize they'll have a mutiny on their hands before long. Unless the guy who owns the place is a _genius_, these people are screwed. It's not our problem anymore. Let's just get you guys out of there. Get to the attack sub I've left for you and come home."

"We've gotta find a smart way out of here," said Sly. "We're outgunned down here. I'll see you soon." He ended the transmission and they dipped back into the alley where the crater was located behind the museum. Sly hopped up on the delivery dock and picked the lock leading into the building. "You said you remembered a way out, hon?"

"There are tunnels below the museum that lead to the subway. Cleopatra showed them to me last time I was here, when I caught you stealing stuff with AJ." She glared at him then nodded. "Follow me."

They hurried into the museum and made their way to the stairs. Once they were on the lowest floor, Carmelita led him to a maintenance door that lead out to a catwalk above where Sly's old heist was. She turned to him, slugged him the way she did earlier then smirked. "Again, you deserved that. C'mon, this way." The two raced along the catwalk high above the first floor of the underground museum. They continued through two doors and the catwalk ended, dumping them back into another hallway.

The vixen slowed her pace, trying to remember which of the many doors in the hallway led to the subway tracks. "Cleo showed me how I could leave the museum and end up in a maintenance section halfway down the subway tracks. We can walk along the tracks and follow them back to the industrial section of this city then find our sub and get the hell out of here."

"Sounds good," said Cooper to his wife. "How you holding up?"

"The baby is in an athletic mood, I feel like crap and I'm angry about that idiot giving his life when I tried telling him to find another way. And how are YOU holding up?"

Sly shrugged. "I'm saving the world with my wife. No complaints here. I saw Clockwerk get zapped by some enormous beam of light and disappear. I'm happy."

"Indeed." She opened a door and peered in then froze. "I guess you spoke too soon."

"How so?" Sly approached her and stuck his head in through the door, above her. His eyes widened, seeing Clockwerk's body. It was getting dismantled by a group of engineers with various tools and blowtorches. Some were entering through the mouth to get down inside. Cables ran in through Clockwerk's eye sockets. The eyes were set aside. A table full of components sat on display off to the side. Cooper shook his head. "That's the brain. I don't know who this _Alphonse_ guy is, although Clockwerk acted like I _should_ know… but one thing is for sure. Alphonse, whoever he is, shouldn't have access to that brain. Nobody should have access to that brain."

"The room is full of people," she said. "I'd feel safer knowing we have his brain, too. We have a baby on the way… but I don't want you getting hurt while…" She gawked as her husband slipped in through the door and dove behind a large cart, designed for the transport of Clockwerk's body parts. She sighed and shook her head, watching from the gap between the door and doorframe. "He's so stubborn sometimes."

Her husband disappeared then, moments later, reappeared crawling up the wall with what looked like two small hooked canes. She couldn't tell from where she was but he seemed to be scaling the wall quite effortlessly. Sly dropped down, landing on one of the talons, high above. With Clockwerk's body on its back, he was now on the highest part, crouched on the tip of the metallic scythe.

He slid down the leg and onto the belly and crept low to avoid being seen. He moved up behind one engineer with their back turned. Sly rendered him unconscious and continued on towards the neck of the large body. He somersaulted to the floor and snatched the parts then made a hard run for the door.

"HEY! STOP HIM!" someone shouted.

Carmelita groaned, opened the door for him then, when he went through, she kicked it shut. The couple broke into a hard sprint, checking every door in the hallway quickly. Sly opened one that led to an equipment room.

Carmelita popped in, grinned in delight and snatched up several weapons then took him by the wrist and led him across the hallway to a door she'd found that led into the dark tunnels of the subway maintenance area. She kicked the door shut behind them and they began to race down the tracks. Fifty yards down the line they heard gunshots. Sly shoved the parts into Carmelita's arms, scooped her up and began to pump his legs as hard as he could manage it.

"Almost there!" she cried, keeping one arm over the 'brain' with her other paw outstretched, gun facing forward and at the ready. "Keep going, Sly! We're loosing them!" She reached the gun around his waist and shot two rounds back the way they'd come to slow down the attackers. They dove for cover, allowing Sly's lead to increase.

"I hope there are no trains on this line!" Sly huffed as he ran.

"The city is under attack! They've stopped all public functions," she called back to give him some measure of reassurance. She reached around his hip and fired again, to keep the enemy pinned down. She lowered her ears from the thunderous sound. Sly did the same.

The track began to angle upward and there was a distant light at the end of the tunnel. She panted, carrying his mate up the incline. "Not much longer now!"

"Thank goodness. Get us out of here. I want to go home and lock this brain away so we can focus on being a family again!"

"Not much longer," he said between breaths. The ground began to shake, causing many of the pursuers to fall. Sly kept his graceful footing but it wasn't easy. The entire dome shook wildly and, in the distance, they could hear a muffled klaxon blaring in warning. They broke free of the tunnel, running along the tramline in the middle of the city. Sly glanced up, seeing debris from the island crash down over the dome. Large chunks of rock hit the glass top and rolled down to the side. The dome shook violently from the island's remains assaulting the underwater structure.

"Hurry! I _really_ don't want to be here anymore," she said, pushing her face into his neck. She feared for the life of her unborn baby, worried about possible injury that would hurt her future child. She snuggled into Sly's arms, facing towards him to keep her belly hidden.

Cooper continued along the tracks, headed for the industrial sector. "It won't be much longer now," he promised.

* * *

X

A/N: _Okay, so I finished re-reading Dawn of Progeny and found the first 1700 words of Dawn of Progeny, C34 that I started on about a year ago. I promise I'll finish it really freakin' soon! This story, too! :D_

_Then I'll work on Castlevania: Claws of Fate. YAY_

_Next will be Détente and the Reflections stuff in no particular order, lol. _

_Thanks for reading! I kept the chapter short so I can get ready to finish out this story! !yAy!_

_KW_


	26. The Great Escape

A/N: _Okay, so I'm close to finishing the whole trilogy. WhitMaverick is doing another piece for DoP, involving Dawn and Karla – Jessica Elwood is doing Conner, Dawn and Karla and… Yeah! :D_

_Tyrack Wolf has done Carmen Cooper and… what can I say, Dawn of Progeny is more popular than the first two stories because… I guess because I was writing better by the time I started it, not to mention I tie up a lot of loose ends from Lament, it isn't as boring as Spy Cooper… I dunno, lol._

_

* * *

_

Chapter –TWENTY-SIX-  
"The Great Escape"

**"I need to get out of here,"** Carmelita said softly with a sigh, her jaw clenched and her ears lowered. She pushed her face into her new husband's chest.

"We're going to have a _baby_. It'll be the dawn of the Cooper family progeny. We're going to be parents, baby. We're going to have _children_. They'll rise up and succeed us in every way possible. They'll be better people and better at everything we're already good at. How's that for being optimistic?" The track leveled out as daylight came from above. It was a solar simulation from special dome ceiling lamps that were powered by panels that extracted sunlight that filtered down through the ocean waters.

Out in the Atlantic, it was practically noon but the solar battery lamps took a few hours of morning light to charge before coming on. In the underwater world, dawn happened around midday for the rest of the American east coast.

Carmelita held the Clockwerk brain in her arms, glad for Cooper's athletic ability to carry her out of the area with ease. "I'm just… being a little emotional right now. Must be hormones. I'm sorry."

"Think of something fun, happy, funny or amusing." He kept his eyes forward, seeing the industrial complex up ahead.

"Remember when I suggested we change your legal name from 'Sly' to 'Sylvester' when getting you into Interpol?"

"How could I forget?" he huffed, cradling her head in his right palm. He curled her legs like a dumbbell in his left paw, bringing her closer to create a better center of gravity. It wouldn't be long now. They would be safe soon and he craved to switch roles from 'thief' to 'mate'.

"Sly, many families stop after one child because a family becomes a financial responsibility. You're last concern in the whole world involves money… why don't we have more than one baby?"

His muzzle contorted into a devious looking grin as he ran with his wife alongside the tramline. "Really? Maybe," he paused to pant then continued, "Maybe we could work on the second one just as soon as the first one is out of diapers or something."

"Perfect, then the first one will be old enough to watch the second one by the time they're becoming an adolescent. We'll still be young enough to have some sort of social life or something."

Cooper chuckled at the thought of being a socialite. "I still think we should locate the family to somewhere safer than the French Riviera. I'll have Bentley help me draw up plans to put us somewhere secluded but …somewhere with a view. How about the Swiss Alps?"

"How about the _French Alps_, Sly. I don't wanna be terribly far from Lyon so I can continue to work. We sorta' talked about this a few days ago."

"You're right. That's fine." A gunshot rang out, striking a traffic signal above Cooper's head. It was nowhere near the couple but certainly close enough to let them know a gunner was chasing them. Sly began to zigzag evasively in wide arcs from left to right. Another shot rang out but he didn't see or hear where the round went. "The fun isn't over yet," he said as the buildings around them changed to an industrialized nature. They hurried through an intersection and into an industrial park. A third gunshot punctuated the air but neither heard or saw where the round went. "At least they're not sharpshooters," he told her with a weak chuckle.

"After this, we settle down, lay low and enjoy our life together, okay?"

"Okay, no more excitement for a while." He glanced over his shoulder then hurried his pace, seeing the approaching soldiers. Because they were running at top speed in contrast to Sly, who held his wife in his arms, they were getting closer. Another gunshot caused his ears to flicker. The twinkle of muzzle fire came from up ahead, though. Sly felt his heart leap in his chest. "Speaking of excitement," he said, ears lowering.

Two more gunshots came from up ahead. They screamed by Sly, causing his ears to ring, followed by a masculine cry of pain somewhere off in the distance behind him. Again, he glanced over his shoulder, but this time he saw one of the enemies drop to the ground. Two more gunshots and another enemy fell flat onto their face.

Sly cut his eyes forward again, seeing the gunner up ahead. The person wore a slender body suit and had shapely hips. As he got closer, he was able to confirm it was a female by their figure and bust.

"That girl!" Carmelita cried. "The one we saw on Kane Island a few months ago!" She wiggled in Sly's grip. He slowed his pace and released his wife's legs. She got to her feet and the couple approached the woman. She pointed a finger at the female weasel and said, "You're the woman whose name was a number!"

"Eleven," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Why are you… _how_ did you even get here, you hussy?"

"I still have my maidenhood," corrected the woman with the gun. "I'm here to _save_ you two, so hush." She stepped between the Cooper couple and fired her gun again then once more. Then again. "Got him," she announced in a soft voice. "I'd escaped when Cleopatra and Jacob came for your friends. Somehow, that stupid woman started a smear campaign to make me look like a fool to the agency. I'm here as a rogue to clean up the CIA's mess and clear _my_ name."

"How'd you get down here?" asked Sly as the trio began to hurry back through the currently abandoned industrial complex.

She glowered over at Sly but he didn't seem to notice as they ran together. "I effing _swam_, Mister Cooper."

"How about you take his question seriously," said Carmelita as she hurried alongside her husband.

"I arrived five weeks ago as a stowaway on a supply ship. I've been working ever since to get this place ready." She pointed the gun backwards and fired without aiming just to slow down the soldiers in the distance. "But the ship I came in on had something special onboard. I had to spy on the Captain to get the combination to his safe and waited until it was brought here to the city…" She fished something out of her left pocket and passed it to Sly Cooper. "I believe this piece is called the _Firestone of India_. Don't simply give it back to the public this time, you moron."

Carmelita snatched the small red stone from her husband's paw and said, "That was my fault. This time, I'll return it to India but personally explain to the actual owner that it needs to be kept in a vault for at least... _twenty years_ …or until this whole thing blows over. I sure as hell don't want it to stay with us because I don't want to paint a target on our heads like Mr. Conner Cooper painted on his home, back in the '80s."

Eleven smirked. "Fine. But I worked my tail off to take this without getting caught so… _do_ _not _let it wind up in the hands of the wrong people. I don't want all my hard work to go to waste."

Carmelita stuffed the red rock into her pocket and said, "Fine. I'll tell them to keep it in a private location in a vault for the next twenty freaking years. Okay? Stop being so paranoid. What about the rest of the artifacts?"

"So long as no one else gets the last couple of pieces, who cares?" exclaimed the woman. She ran alongside of them, headed towards the buildings at the far end of the dome near the seawall.

"Let's just get the hell out of here," said Sly. "I don't care whose team you're on. If you shoot soldiers gunning for us then I'm content to have you around. We're almost home free!"

"Where the hell is Jake White? Last I heard, his duty was to keep you two alive." asked the woman.

Carmelita sighed. "He decided to become macho and got himself killed. You're not going to attack us like you did on the island, are you?"

She sighed similar to the way Carmelita just did. "Just call me Elvena. I attacked twice to help fake Sly's death by rendering him unconscious in order to put him under the radar. Both times he got away." She glared over at Cooper then back to Carmelita as the trio continued to run through the complex. "I work directly beneath Saundra Moore. She's my mission coordinator. But I've not spoken to her in over two months."

Sly turned right into an alley and the girls followed then he turned left and dipped into a maintenance shed. His voice lowered to them. "If you're not here for Miss Moore, then how did you get here? Did you do it alone? Where is your backup?"

"I'm working with someone," replied Elvena. "He's here with me, trying to help make sure that we succeed." The weasel holstered her guns and flexed her fingers in the fingerless-gloves she wore.

Cooper's right brow shifted upwards. "Yeah? We could use all the help we can get. Where is he?"

The morning light began to fade. As if becoming night on cue, the alley between the small buildings darkened. The soldiers made their way into the area, searching for Sly and his wife. They passed in front of the entrance to the maintenance shed, nearly blinded from the strange darkness that came over the area.

Eleven dashed back out into the alley, bringing two knives up off her hips. She buried both blades in each man's throat then shifted a bit, severing their heads completely. She twirled the knives gracefully and returned them to their sheaths. "I'll give you one guess."

The darkness dissipated, making way for the morning illumination again. Erik stepped from the shadows with his arms open to Carmelita and Sly. "My friends!" The Czech Wolfhound appeared pleased to see them. "We're all back together – one big, happy, colorful family reunion, am I right?"

Sly shook his head with a chuckle. "Murray told me that you two argued when you guys were imprisoned. That you two hated each other and couldn't stand one another."

The woman blushed brightly. "We, uh…"

Erik chuckled offhandedly. "Opposites attract."

Carmelita groaned. "You two became a _couple_? I can't help but tell you how amusing that is. Fine with me; you two deserve each other."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Erik with a furrowed brow.

Sly put his paws up, defensively. "She's a little on the hormonal side right now. Don't let her words bug you. What she means is… you two make a _great_ couple. Let's just get out of here before anyone else dies."

Eleven nodded in agreement. "I have a _white wedding_ planned in six months. Dying would put quite a dampener on my plans." She glanced at Sly's ring then Carmelita's set of rings and added, "I heard you guys couldn't wait," reaching to pat Carmelita's tummy. "Just… it's in the grapevine."

The vixen's ears lowered and she bared her teeth but said nothing.

"You two are getting _hitched_?" Sly laughed in a friendly way. He put his arm around Erik's neck and his other paw into the Czech's headfur, rubbing his knuckles against the man's scalp. "You ole rascal, you! Don't you remember how you two met?"

Eleven nodded with another half blush. "We both broke into that old ocelot's home because you were there."

Cooper couldn't help but laugh at the irony. "And now you two are getting _married_ and having a white wedding? You two were at each other's necks every time you were around each other. What changed?"

Carmelita glanced out into an alley. "Can we catch up when we're on the sub, headed home?"

Ignoring the vixen, Eleven said, "Murray and Bentley went one way, Erik and I went the other way after Jacob and Cleopatra rescued us from that stupid underwater prison. That place is a long story and if I get the chance, I'll explain it." She trailed off, glanced out of the shed and un-holstered her sidearm.

The weasel continued, telling them. "I used to _like_ Jacob. But when she and Saundra's sister showed up, they reeked of _sex_ and I was annoyed because I realized he'd slept with them both. I was injured at the time, so my patience was lower than normal. Once safe, I asked for a hiatus from the CIA to recuperate. Erik apparently hung around to keep an eye on my house, even though he _knew_ I was a very private person. When one of the Atlantis Dome men came after me in my sleep, I was surprised to find Erik come out of the shadows and take the guy down. He saved my life and we started to compare notes."

The wolfhound finished the story. "I was taken with her after watching her for a little while. I explained to her that I knew someone would windup getting attacked. She was impressed that I was right and so she showed me enough respect to let me compare my notes with her own. We talked over a bottle of dessert wine."

Despite grating on Carmelita's nerves, Eleven picked back up with the story. "We got drunk and made out for what seemed like hours. Neither of us were drinkers. We didn't like getting drunk. Either way, we woke up in one another's arms. Then we started talking again only to find out we have a lot in common. Eventually, over the next few weeks, we fell in love."

Sly saw the look on his wife's face. "Well, listen you two, we need to get out of here… so help us get to safety. Carmelita isn't feeling well and I want to get Clockwerk's brain to Bentley before it winds up in someone else's possession."

Carmelita slid the box under her left arm and said, "Unless you two want to make it to your wedding night so you can find out what you've missed out on after all this time, and believe me – it's definitely worth it – then let's cut the chitchat and get out of here." She turned directly towards Elvena. "Look, thanks for the assist back there. I'm sorry I was being ungrateful. Yes, I _am_ pregnant and _yes_ it did happen before our wedding. It's the modern age. We lived together in the past and didn't rush into 'it', but… this time it happened. So quit it with the snipes. Good for you, you'll have a 'white' wedding. You'll wait until the day you're married chupar y chingar. Congratulations. But if we don't get out of here… you'll die a virgin. So… can we _hurry the hell up_, por favor?"

Erik approached his girl and whispered into her ear, "Just think, you'll also be hormonal and kick everyone's ass one day when we plan for kids."

Elvena brought a paw to her lips with a coy giggle. "Let's go, everyone."

* * *

X

**Alphonse Moreau** narrowed his gaze, watching the streets below from the observation deck of his penthouse suite. He saw Jasper Cunningham's image reflected in the rounded window.

"The artifacts have all been moved to your personal penthouse, Doctor. Everything is accounted for, save the pearls and the spear tip."

"And the copies are in the museum?" asked Moreau.

"Yes, they're there. Did you want to put them on display for the public or just leave them in the vault for now?"

"Leave them for the time being. I have an agent in place. They'll retrieve both pieces next season and replace them with fakes. Eventually, the Firestone of India will go back on display at a museum in Mumbai. I'll get it when it surfaces if I truly need it to unlock the secrets of Atlantis. We should focus on _finding_ the lost remains before we worry about the artifacts."

Cunningham tilted his head. "I thought the artifacts had something to do with religion or power? All these supernatural freaks wanted them, right?"

"Yes, Jasper. But as old as they are, they're not as old as the artifacts. I have a theory that these pieces were somehow the keys to the city's technology. Perhaps some of these keys were melted down into other objects, but it shouldn't matter. It's not the kind of keys that a locksmith would imagine. Anything else, Jasper?"

"Yes, Doctor. The lab is ready with the tubes. The science team says that it will require an enormous draw of power."

Moreau nodded. "The Russian facility will be dedicated to creating a power supply to meet our needs. Our artifact search teams will continue to search Prague for Stephen or any signs of his work regarding the clone of the supernatural he'd created last year. I understand that the lab he'd created was powered by a small self-sustaining power supply about the size of a car battery. If we can't find it, then the head of the new Russian facility will _invent_ it. I want the energy to finish my life's work."

"What's the new gear in the lab supposed to do, Doctor?"

"It's cloning equipment but it needs more testing. I was thinking of cloning myself but as the current technology stands, it would take over ten years to grow an adult clone in a tube without Stephen's help. If only I had my hands on the technology used by that man in Prague last year. No matter, though… Perhaps I'll make a clone of you as well so that you can be in two places at once." He lifted a hand, touching the observation window.

A closeup of Carmelita Fox appeared on the glass window. He watched her run through the streets with a set of rings on her finger and three others alongside of her. "Let them go home. They think they've won the day by destroying the island and stealing back one of the artifacts. What they don't know is that I'm patient. I learned patience when living out in the South Pacific." He watched as Carmelita came around a corner on the surveillance footage. He brought his hand to his chin watching the pregnant vixen flip a soldier over her shoulder then render the man unconscious with a low kick to his face. "She's quite good."

Jasper approached from alongside of Moreau. "She's not bad, boss. What's next on our agenda? If the island is gone, where do we do above-water research?"

"I was thinking about setting up a little spot in Russia. It will take a while to fund a quiet area and I want to make sure I'm using the right 'brain' to do it…" Moreau paused then folded his arms. "Whoever we fund, we should keep them oblivious to this dome. I'll have you monitor them to ensure it stays that way. How do you feel?"

"The treatments seem to be working so far. I feel great. The head physician says the cancer is completely dormant at this point. We can rest assured that it won't spread anytime soon."

"Good." He continued to watch Sly and Carmelita on the virtual security monitor floating in the observation window. "If you ever meet these two in person, I want you to do me a favor."

"What is it, doc?"

"Provide disinformation. Fake ignorance. I don't care if they're old and gray, you treat the vixen like she's far too young to have arrested your brother and deny that it's possible. Treat them like they're an annoyance to you but don't let them know that _you_ know what's going on. Understand?"

"Fine. Anything else?"

"If you ever see the vixen again… Fight her. If she's with her husband, fake getting rendered unconscious easily. Knowing her, she'll want to take you in or somehow arrest you. If it's in Russia, once we've got that facility up and running, she'll probably want to contain you and move on. She's a weapons aficionado and will most likely procure your guns. I'll make a version of your weapon that analyzes genetic code and uses a wireless internet card in the handle to transmit information whenever it connects to free public-access Wi-Fi. I want her DNA."

"When do you expect this to take place, Doctor?"

"Jasper, you're a surprisingly smart man but you're not a very patient man. This may not happen for _well over_ ten years. Your clone and my clone will be alive and working for us by this point. It will take time before we can have the Russian facility up and running but I know these two quite well… Whenever it _does_ happen, those two will come snooping around. The day that happens, you'll be the one who intercepts them. It has to go off without a hitch and you'll need guns that she would find interesting else she'll simply leave them behind. How do you feel about using pistols that fire an elephant round?"

Jasper's eyes sparkled. "You want me to carry around something bigger than a fifty cal?"

"Yes, I do. I'll have them specially made for you. Any special requests?"

"Pearl handles with a wild west feel."

Moreau chuckled. "Fine, fine. What about port compensators?"

"No, I like good recoil. I like seeing lesser men try to shoot a large gun and fall on their ass. So both guns will monitor the DNA of the user?"

"No, there will be three guns. Only one of them will have the sensor and that's the one you have on you the day you cross paths with Carmelita Fox. And remember; whenever it does happen, you need to feign complete ignorance – she'll certainly recognize you because of your brother. So it's up to you to play the part believably."

"Understood." He watched over Moreau's shoulder as the vixen broke a soldier's arm, brought her knee up into the man's gut then flipped the soldier onto his back. She put the man into a sleeper hold until he passed out then she hurried off with three others. Jasper brought his paw to his jaw, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "She _is_ good. If you clone her, she'll be working for us?"

"Yes, she will."

"She's attractive, knows how to fight _and_ you said she likes guns? Too bad she's married."

"Her clone will be single," murmured Moreau. "This may never come to pass, so don't get your hopes up. As I said, I'm patient. No rush. However, we cannot get her DNA right _now_. The biogenetic scanner readings show that she's currently pregnant and at a mid-point in her gestational period. Pregnancy runs down to the genetic level. If we were to clone her, we'd be cloning a woman with a fetus inside of her. Or, at the very least, her body would THINK she's pregnant and create an entirely _new_ list of problems. I want her child to be delivered _before_ we extract her DNA sample." He paused again then said, "To be honest, I'm not sure if that's entirely true but I'd rather have a sample from her when she's normalized. So, for now, it's too early."

"Well, we'll wait until you're ready. Like you said, I need to have patience." Jasper continued to watch the woman on the window. He murmured softly, "Pretty girl, though… I bet she'll be worth the wait."

"Be glad you're an enforcer," said Moreau with a shrug. "In my line of work, there is no time for women." He walked back towards his penthouse dwelling, leaving Jasper Cunningham to stay in the observatory area. Jasper watched as the Cooper couple made their escape with the other two.

"Boss, they're going to know where we are when they leave."

Moreau stopped in the doorway. "We're moving the entire dome tomorrow. I've searched the bedrock of this area. Atlantis isn't here. We're moving on to the next sector on the grid. They can look all they like – they won't find this dome. Anyone they tell about this dome will think they're idiots. I am unconcerned."

"Sleep well, Doctor." Jasper watched the door slide shut then turned back to the observation deck window, watching the holographic image display from the surveillance feed.

* * *

X

**"Your, uh, abilities really matured**," said Sly, watching Erik fight. The Wolfhound closed his paws into fists, controlling two tentacles of physically manifested shadow. The arms of shade held two soldiers by their necks. Cooper watched as the two tendrils of abyss continued to grow upwards, out from beneath the shadows of two box trucks.

Quite suddenly they brought the men down to the ground, slamming them into the pavement so hard that it cracked the concrete. The two-story plummet was fatal due to the speed in which the shadow arms brought the soldiers to the pavement. Erik nodded to Sly and said, "I discovered this ability by accident quite recently. Eleven was being stalked and someone attacked her. I panicked and, in my adrenaline-heightened state, I struck him with a tendril comprised of pure, solid shade. It's nimble enough to pick up a pen and write a memo or ease through old-time locks like a skeleton key and turn the tumbler. It's strong enough to lift men several stories in the air and jerk them back down to the ground at many times the force of gravity."

"Well… keep up the good job, there," said Sly, glancing to Elvena. "You knew your boyfriend was the Alter Boy in the shadow church, right? His mentor could turn _into_ a shadow and hide beneath your boots."

"I don't care," she said, adding, "I love him for who he is. And he's good to me, ticklish and physically unintimidating. Yet he's powerful enough to protect me. I'm okay with it." She brought a paw to her hip, withdrew a blade and flung it underhanded as fast as the average person could flinch.

Cooper glanced up at a man who'd just come from around the corner. He now had a black throwing blade between his eyes. He barreled through the alley, between Sly and Eleven, and fell to the ground several feet away. His left leg twitched momentarily then his body shuddered one last time as death took his form. Sly grimaced. "You're fast with those knives. Accurate, too."

"They used to call me 'Bull's-eye' at the office, based on the bad guy played by Collin Farrell, in the movie, '_Daredevil_'. I'm okay with a gun but there's no muscle memory involved so I'm relying on my eyes… it's… it's just different with a gun. I'm not as good." She reached back to her belt. For the first time, Sly noticed the way her belt was designed. It had an 'ammo-belt' look, but was made for knives, four blades deep, going all the way around her body. She saw his eyes on her hips and cleared her throat. "I started with sixty-four. I'm down to about forty-eight. They're shaped a little like a skinny Texas, if you count the handle. There's a flat side of the blade, with a bit of a curve and there's a serrated side. That's the side I used to kill those two guys earlier."

Carmelita backed towards the couple with her gun held up at a ninety-degree angle. "The ones you _beheaded_, chatterbox?"

"Yes," she replied with a frown. "Sorry. I get… really weird when I have to fight groups of people. I dispel my nervousness with garishness."

"So the more people you have to kill, the more you open up and chitchat?" Carmelita turned to look her over for a moment. "That has to be the single weirdest character trait I've never heard of. What do your CIA head shrinks think about that?"

"They say it's not as strange as _you_ make it out to be," said Elvena with a huff of indignation. "Besides, I _like_ talking about my knives. They're balanced so that they're the most accurate for hard throws at ranges fewer than twenty-five feet. You'd need a standard throwing blade for accuracy beyond twenty feet anyhow. Most of my throws are less than fifteen feet. Most of the ones tonight have been around ten feet or less and…"

"…TSHT!" Carmelita snapped to quiet her. "Go back to being a super private person. _Please_. If we die, I don't want the last thing I hear to be about your metallic ammunition."

"Fine, fine." She brought a paw back to her hip then swished her hand outwards, as if casually making a dismissive gesture.

Carmelita first perceived the movement of Eleven's paw to be just such a gesture until she heard gurgling behind her. She looked over her shoulder and saw two soldiers with three blades in their necks. Two knives jutted from the throat of one man and a single blade stuck from the neck of another. They clasped their throats, dropping their guns on the ground. Both men dropped to their knees almost in unison as if rehearsed. One fell forward; the other fell off to the side, lying on his hip. Inspector Cooper looked away. She said a word that sounded a little like, "yikes" and a little like, "Yeah," but it was drawn out and filled with disgust for the bloody mess. "Girl, you're not right with those damn things."

"Forty-five left," she murmured as if to remind herself. "I hope you two have a good means of transportation. We planned to sneak here then sneak out later on."

Erik came alongside of her, keeping his arms out and his front facing two soldiers in the distance that were tangling with his shadow arms. "She's quite correct, Mrs. Cooper. We were doing reconnaissance and looking for you and your husband's whereabouts. But we never expected you two to barge into the area, drawing attention to yourselves. What of the artifacts?"

"We couldn't find them," said Sly, giving his cane a twirl then bringing it back to the ready. "What about you two? Find out anything?"

"Tell him," said Elvena, coming to the corner of an industrial building's gatehouse. She peered around the side then gave a 'thumb's up' gesture that the alley was clear.

Erik nodded and told the Coopers', "We found a supply room at the Museum. Now, there's a slight possibility that the artifacts found there are fakes being amassed to be put on display to the public of _this city_ in the near future. But they look real to us and they were in a safe storage vault. So we planted Semtex… a lot of it."

"I'm going to get a quick look," said Sly to his wife. He slid his cane into his belt then reached into a pouch on the back of his belt with both paws, slipping his palms into shuko grips. He scaled the wall easily, leaving little gouges in the metal as he climbed. Sly made it up to the roof and looked around. He brought two fingers to his right ear and said, "Bentley, we've got a new angle. We met up with the guy and girl that you and Murray were stuck with a few months ago… you know, in that underwater chamber thing."

"Eleven and Erik," said the tortoise over the earpiece. "They're _there_? And they're working in tandem?"

"Not only are they working side-by-side, they're _engaged_ to be _married_, bud." He waited for Bentley's response, consisting of amusement and disbelief then Sly said, "They're going to blow up the downtown museum. They think the artifacts are there. I want to time it. We're going to use the Binoc-u-com clock so that we're doing this at exactly the same time… Have Murray drop depth charges on the far side of the dome in exactly ten minutes. We'll have the Semtex go off in eleven minutes, which gives the charges a chance to sink down this far, and he can set them off about a minute after dropping them. That should cover our escape."

"I'll tell Murray. So to be clear, at exactly _thirteen hundred hours_, DC time, we'll drop the depth charges overboard. One minute later, we'll both be setting off the explosives at the same time. Is that a correct summation?"

"Yeah, man. Hopefully that ends all this mess." Sly ended the call and parasailed down to the alley. He pulled a zip cord that caused the sail to recoil back into his pack from a spring-loaded mechanism. "Okay, gang, listen up…" He pointed to Carmelita. "Baby, you now have the Firestone of India in your pocket. Sharp work from Agent Eleven. I stole the Spear of Destiny with Agent White several months ago (_Chapter 6_) and it's now in a vault at the Vatican. I also returned the Pearls of Johanna, but Carmelita wasn't there for _that_ job, minutes earlier. Supposedly they're both safe. I'm content to blow everything else up. Who's with me?"

A show of three paws went up. Sly grinned and withdrew his binoc-u-com to look at the clock on the screen inside of it. "Okay, everyone, it's time to synchronize your watches. Set the time for… _twelve fifty-two_ on my mark…" He paused for several seconds, giving everyone a chance to get his or her watches ready… then, he said, "_Now_." And looked up with a nod. "At one minute _passed_ the hour, we're going to blow up that Semtex in the museum. They kept the real artifacts in that building last time I was here. So I'm content to think this will end everything."

"What are we waiting for," said Erik with a chuckle. "Let's get out of here and leave them with a fireworks display they'll never forget."

Carmelita looked to Sly. "Is it clear?" She waited for his nod then told the group, "Follow me. They obviously know we're still here, killing their guards, because the work force hasn't returned to these factories, yet. Anyway, the sub has been outfitted with defense mechanisms and weapons and Bentley had it stashed in a pipe that leads into one of the factories, here. It should be in a water-cooling pool inside one of the larger plants to the south of here. We're almost there."

The CIA agent fell into step with her fiancé and the Cooper couple. "Seven minutes before we set the Semtex remote for a sixty-second time delay." The coterie entered an enormous factory that smelled of bio-diesel mixed with cooked corn. "If the island was for them to bring food through, then why does it smell like a McDonalds in here?"

Sly shrugged. "It's possible the island had a different role than we thought. Maybe they were doing some sort of research there. No one knows for sure."

Carmelita kept her gun pointed forward. "They're green, here. This is food waste, like batter and grease from fryers. They use it all different ways. If some of these factories _do_ have a way to create synthetic food then they'll still be here and we'll have to come back in six months with help. If they don't listen to reason, we'll give this place hell. We have the satellite coordinates up on the yacht, so it's no big deal."

"And if they somehow move this place?" asked Erik as the group entered a large warehouse with enormous cooling pools with pipes along the walls and ceiling. "No one will believe us."

"It's not easy to move something as big as an underwater city," said Carmelita. "If it takes years, we'll find it again. People that have the power to own something like this dome… also have a lot of connections up on the surface. _SOMEONE_ will know where it went if it moves. Sly and I will track down those connections and do whatever it is we have to do to find it again. I'm not worried about it."

They climbed up the side, went out on the catwalk over the pool and approached a dark spot in the water. The sub was twenty-five feet below them. "Here's the plan. We've gotta dive in, swim _beneath_ the sub then we come up inside of it through an open section on its belly. If anyone has anything that's not waterproof…"

Eleven patted the Semtex remote in her back pocket. "This baby works underwater just fine."

Sly patted his satchel. "The binoc-u-com works better in water than I do." He glanced over at a metal cart fifteen feet away and grinned. "Hold up." He hurried down off the platform and wheeled the iron cart up onto it. It wasn't easy to roll it along the corrugated platform but it worked, little by little. "Okay… this thing is heavy as crap so it'll sink straight to the bottom. Everyone hold onto the side of the cart and it'll take us straight to the sub. Then we'll let go and swim up under the submarine's belly – bam, easy."

Carmelita smiled brightly. "That's using your head, baby." She kicked out one of the rails on the side and helped him to push it to the edge of the catwalk. "Okay, everyone grab hold and don't let go until we're beneath the sub. Ready?"

Everyone clung to a different side of the metal cart. "The wheels are the heaviest," explained Sly, "Just like a mining cart. So it'll stay upright the whole way down. Just don't let go of the edge because then you've gotta swim for it, and that's hard when your chest is full of air. Ready?"

"Here we go," said Carmelita. Together, they pushed it into the water. The metallic cart dragged all four down into the cooling pool at a rapid rate of descent. They all held on for dear life. The group sank quickly until the cart hit the elbow joint where the pipe changed direction. Everyone let go and swam upwards, into the belly of the sub. They emerged inside, catching their breath. Carmelita, who had the Clockwerk brain tucked under her left arm, dropped the unit onto the deck. Water ran out of the vents in the side, leaving a puddle. She climbed up from the water and scooted the metallic box off to the side with a swift kick.

She doubled over and shook hard, spraying water on the bulkheads. "Hopefully this'll be the last time we ever have to come down here," the vixen groused softly. "I hate this place. I could never see myself living here like these people do."

"Oh it's not that bad," said Sly with a chuckle. "You have an ocean view every single day." He offered her a grin and rolled out of the water onto his back. "You wanna pilot this thing?"

"Of course," said his wife with a smirk. "Bentley said there would be dry clothes for us but," she trailed off and turned to look at Elvena and Erik, "We didn't expect visitors. Sorry about that, but anyway." She moved up towards the front and found the clothes laid out then brought them back. "Sly, here's yours." She cleared her throat to the other two. "Can you guys turn around so we can change?"

Elvena reached for her beau's wrist and turned him around. "Not a very large submarine, is it? What's the range of a small vehicle like this?"

Carmelita and her husband began to undress quickly. The vixen gave the question some thought then said, "Maybe ten hours of air at fifteen knots in any direction." She passed Sly his clothes then reached for her own. "Let's just get out of here and head home. I'm done with this damn place." She quickly dressed, causing her dry clothes to become slightly damp. Once Sly was ready she cleared her throat again. "Okay, you two. Sit somewhere and relax. This shouldn't take long."

She headed up to the front of the sub and booted the computer then piloted it out of the pipe until they were clear of the dome. As soon as they passed through, the sub vibrated hard from a nearby depth charge. Carmelita shouted into Sly's binoc-u-com. "What the HELL is going on up there? That was WAY TOO CLOSE for a sub like this!"

Bentley's voice came over the communicator. "Stand by, you guys. We're in a maritime battle against several cigarette boats that apparently were out at sea when we destroyed the island! They're well armed and this yacht is NOT!"

The vixen threw her arms up and groaned long and loud in frustration. "Are you SERIOUS? I thought we could GO HOME. Okay, just evade these guys. I'm on my way. I hope your emergency defense package for this sub is going to do what it needs to do. If they're attacking YOU then WHY are they dropping depth charges?"

"Maybe they know you've come from the dome," said Bentley, equally frustrated. "The weapons Penelope and I installed should be adequate. We're using both mine and Penelope's RC chopper to strafe these guys but there are too many and Murray is doing his best to keep this yacht from taking too much damage."

Sly sat down in the chair adjacent to his wife. "Let's go run to the rescue again. One last 'hurrah', right?"

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled, pushing the throttle bar forward. "Get your tail in the back and man the tail gun." A slight smile crept across her muzzle. "Like old times, huh?"

Sly nodded with a grin. "You betcha'." He headed towards the back.

* * *

X

A/N: _Okay, guys, The next chapter is the very last one. I'll probably add the epilogue into that chapter. I'm not sure yet. I kinda' struggled to pull 7 thousand words out of THIS chapter. ANYhow. I did a lot of things in this chapter that ties into Dawn of Progeny. Since most of you have already read Dawn of Progeny, you already know Doctor M. is the main badguy here. So it shouldn't have been a surprise that you got to see him in this chapter. That's okay, surprise! Lol_

_But now you have to think about the first chapter of Dawn of Progeny – so, THAT is why, when Carmelita takes Jasper's guns… well, for those of you who haven't read DoP yet, you'll see. And those that have, you know what happens later in the story. _

_ANYhow. Thanks for reading!_

_Next Chapter: C27 – "Dawn of Progeny" The Epilogue may or may not be included. ;)_


	27. Dawn of Progeny and EPILOGUE

A/N: _Thanks for reading, everyone! This is the final chapter of Spy Cooper! I appreciate you reading this trilogy and I hope that you enjoy the sequel, story number three, which I call, "Dawn of Progeny", which I also named this 27__th__ chapter after. You'll see why. OKAY! Thanks again for reading and I hope you continue to enjoy the trilogy through to its conclusion!_

_

* * *

_

Chapter –TWENTY-SEVEN-  
"_Dawn of Progeny_"

_Several months ago…_

**Carmelita Fox looked into the mirror** and focused only on the reflection of her doe-like amber-hued eyes. She took a deep breath to keep herself calm and licked her lips as if to attempt to dispel the apprehension and fear gnawing at her heart. "Penelope, I know we're not exactly from the same world, here… but am I a stupid girl?"

"Stupid no… but you _are_ being silly right now."

Fox sighed. She pursed her lips together then said, "Jing?" A brief pause, then, "Ironically, I was your stand in at _your_ wedding. What do _you_ think? That was planned… this …_this_ sorta' isn't."

Jing King approached Carmelita Fox in a flattering blue gown. "Ma'am, if I may be frank." She waited for a nod of the vixen's head then placed her paws on Carmelita's shoulders, looking the woman in the eye. "You're young. You have your whole life ahead of you and, whether or not you decide to go through with this today, the fact remains that going through with this will bring peace and happiness to your heart and spirit. Deny it in public if you wish, but you are deeply in love. Perhaps your worries are because this isn't happening the way it happens in fantasy books. Your maid of honor is someone you once wished to arrest because she had a record of theft by means of using remote controlled gadgets. None of that matters right now. Look passed what is awkward about this ceremony. Look beyond how your father has made you feel about going through with this. You're not doing this for anyone else. You're not doing it for what few friends will attend today. You're not doing this for the small amount of family members will be attending this enormous day to show support. All of those distractions aside, you're truly doing this for yourself and for Sly Cooper. And at the end of the day, it's about creating a link of unity that transcends life and death with the man that your heart yearns to love forever. It's about taking the next step forward on the first day towards growing old with your future husband. If you choose to do this, you'll be appeasing your desire to make all of this come true. If you walk away, your heart will be left incomplete only to save face with a handful of others. Would you… _could you_ disrespect yourself so greatly as to walk away now? Now? When you're _this close_ to finally realizing your happiness? And what of the baby?" Jing brought her right palm to Carmelita's tummy firmly. "The beautiful life that you've created together? You're a family now, whether or not you marry the father. But the fact of the matter is, you're not getting married today for this baby… you're getting married today because you're in love with the man you've chosen as the father of this child. Today, you should embrace your love for your partner. Today, you should stand proud and enjoy your special day, creating a symbolic unity."

Carmelita was silent, her lower lip trembling between her teeth. Penelope had nothing to say. Jing shook her head, reached for Carmelita's paws and began jumping like a giggly American. "Miss Fox, you're GETTING MARRIED! YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED!"

It worked better than the speech and was what Carmelita needed. She jumped with Jing and Penelope joined in. The three girls screamed, getting out their pent up energy. Fox drew both girls into a hug and, even though it was a little out of character, they took a moment to pray together. With that finished, Jing took up the train behind Carmelita's dress. Penelope hurried out the side door to head up to the alter and wait in position as the maid of honor.

From the staging room, Carmelita heard the rented organist begin to play the infamous wedding music. She moved into position at the door, seeing her father in a tuxedo on the other side of the tinted glass door. She sighed in relief, seeing that he attended and stood in place to give her away in proper fashion. Even though she knew he had reservations about doing this… the fact that he showed up, dressed to do this duty for his daughter was enough to help all of her past worries dissolve. A mere four foxes populated one side of the small church. Sly Cooper's friends populated the other side of the church, including some of the more notorious villains she'd ever booked.

Awkward but amusing, Dimitri, Panda King, Big Jim McSweeny and his personal prison guard were in attendance, as well as a few other shady characters. Standing there at the door, waiting for her cue, she also noticed someone else… someone she _didn't _recognize. Her eyes lifted to the rafters of the church where a shadowy figure loomed above. Beneath him hung a raccoon tail. She tried to remember the long-lost brother of Conner Cooper, who disappeared to delve into cyber space. Was he a hacker like Bentley or some sort of computer thief or was he an honest member who had little ties with the family? Bruce o'Coop? She couldn't recall. However, the man in the rafters _was_ wearing a tuxedo as his coattails hung down on either side of his gray ringed tail. She wondered if Sly had seen him.

A signal was given, causing her attention to become redirected. She began to push forward through the tinted glass door and her father turned towards her, reaching a paw for hers. Their eyes met and he nodded to his daughter, acknowledging that he was, in fact, ready to walk his daughter down that aisle. Her heart fluttered with anticipation. Together, they marched to the beat of a song that every woman secretly wished to hear one day… For Carmelita Fox, that day was today…

* * *

X

_Presently…_

**Voices came from all sides, **muddled together as Carmelita Cooper groaned in confusion. As she came out of the dazed dream, she felt pain in her forehead and tasted the salty, metallic flavor of blood on her tongue tip. She felt a guiding paw, strong, gentle and loving, on the backside of her paw. It guided her fingers to a control handle and that's when everything began to clear.

A droning alarm faded in, ringing in the background. Everything else slid into focus and the shouting of a man and a woman became sharp and enunciated. Eleven and Erik – they sounded as though they were speaking in panic.

Then she heard a soothing man's voice in her ear. "Snap out of it, baby. You hit your head and we need you to pull it together. You were thrown from your seat. You're the pilot of this sub. Come on, angel. Come back to me and shake it off. You're tough. You're my wife and soon to be the mother of our child. Come on, Carmelita."

She groaned and closed her fingers around the controls. Her mind snapped back into place and she gasped as if coming out of deep water all at once. She reached for the throttle bar and shoved it forward again, pushing her feet into the steering rudder pedals. "I… I'm okay!" she told them, shaking her head quickly to get at herself. Her senses returned to the here-and-now and she blinked a few times. "Sly, I'm sorry… That last depth charge was awfully close. How's the hull?"

He spoke calmly to her. "The computer says it's exceeded the maximum stress test limits. We can't take another zinger like that again. I'm not sure it was a depth charge. I think the concussion of the exploding boat, or maybe some of the debris may have clipped us. I had Bentley walk me through the active camo bit… we're now cloaked but we have three boats left to take down. You okay?"

She nodded and leaned forward in her seat. She swallowed back the blood from having bit her tongue tip; she ignored the bump on her forehead and nodded firmly. "I'm okay. I was a little shaken there but I'm fine."

Sly hurried back to the aft, sliding into the gunner body once more. He heard Erik speaking from behind. "Just get in the zone and shoot down all those guided bombs before they hit us. You're lucky the one that knocked our Mrs. Cooper didn't actually hit us. It must have been only ten feet away when it exploded. You better be glad she bought that bit about debris – she doesn't need to be worried about _this_ nonsense. The fact I'm back here worrying with you is…"

"Shh." Sly chuckled. "Okay, I'll get in my zone. Let me think happy thoughts, okay? Just… shh. I need to focus. We almost died a minute ago from an explosion that was only ten feet away… but at least I shot it before it _hit us_." He calmed himself and wrapped his paws around the control stick again, searching the area for anymore incoming targets. His mind began to wonder, doing exactly what he said he'd do… he thought 'happy thoughts.'

* * *

X

_Four and a half months ago_…

**Sly Cooper paused in front of a bridal shop**. His ears flickered, hearing hearty laughter from Bentley. "Oh, ho ho ho, my friend… I've known you almost my entire life and I've _never_ seen you stop in front of a place like _this_. What is going on with _you_?"

Cooper stared at the gown for a moment. "It's… nothing really, I just… I was walking down this street with Carmelita a week ago. And we passed by this store and her head turned as we walked by as if she couldn't take her eyes off of this dress. I just… A man isn't supposed to buy his woman a wedding dress. She's supposed to go to the store with her best female friends and get all sorts of silly over that stuff. But man, I bet she'd look great in that thing."

"Holy _smokes_, where in the _world_ did all this come from? When were you going to tell me that you're considering actually going through with it?"

The raccoon shook his head. "I've just considered it, now, for the first time. Right here, as we walked by this store with the dress in the window. It reminded me of walking by with her. It reminded me of when I saw her turn her head."

Bentley's bionic leg attachments offered a rhythmic cadence of soft hydraulic whirring as the two walked together through the quiet street of the French Riviera. "Sly, buddy, pal… what in the world has changed to make you think about actually doing the deed? I'm not against it, I'm just… you've been in a pretty weird daze over the last few days. You didn't even _try_ during out last multiplayer hacking games we do once a week. You wanna tell me what's going on?"

Sly moved closer to Bentley and lowered his voice as the two walked away from the bridal shop. "I don't think Carmelita wants this kind of information to get out so let's keep it private. But… about five weeks ago, she decided it was time we take our relationship to the next level. It was a little premature, I agree. Well…" He turned his head, speaking directly into Bentley's ear. "We've started having sex. We, uh, gave our virginity to one another." Instead of letting Bentley take a minute to process what he'd just learned, Sly continued straight through the subject. "The first night was sweet. We did candles and flower petals and… she had wine and I was gentle. We slept in each other's arms… but the next day, she had off work and woke up wanting to try it again. The candles had all burned out and it was broad daylight coming in through the window. Then we had an afternoon delight. Then two more times _that_ night. And again after she got home from work the next day. Now we can't keep our paws off of one another. Only two or three days have passed without making love in the past five weeks. Maybe it's been closer to six or seven at this point. I've not really kept close count."

Bentley swallowed, nervous to discuss the subject. "I, uh… well, it's very normal for a male our age to engage in such activity with a chosen mate. I'm surprised you guys didn't wait to get married or something."

"Well, it just… didn't happen in that order but… a month and a half ago, marriage was the last thing on my mind… but now I'm thinking about it. And I have no weird feelings about it. What's wrong with me?"

Bentley laughed. "Nothing is _wrong_ with you, Sly! Not every guy is ready to settle down with a nice girl before the age of thirty… but sometimes, we guys know when we've found the right girl and that changes the game, so to speak. Irrefutably, you've fallen in love with Carmelita Fox. Question is… what's the next step? On a side note, I'm quite hopeful you're engaging in _responsible_ mating practices."

Sly furrowed his brows with an amused look. "Bentley, dude, if you're asking if we used a condom…" he shrugged then shook his head. "No. She's got this weird latex thing, although truth-be-told, we didn't even think about it the first or second day, anyhow. I'm not concerned. Thanks for talking to me about this, though. Murray isn't quite… you know… good 'adult' conversation."

"No, no, I totally understand what you mean. I'm not exactly an expert in this subject, Sly. It's not easy to talk about this because, let's face it, I've not experienced such things quite yet. Also, the subject makes me nervous for reasons I don't quite understand yet. It's not easy to talk about… but, as your mature friend… I _had_ to ask if you're considering a responsible course of action and if you've weighed the possible repercussions of what this could bring about…"

"If you mean a _baby_, then I'm fully prepared. Money isn't a concern and I'm good with kids. Heck I still _am_ a kid as far as I'm concerned. We'd probably get along really well," he said with a chuckle.

"I have a feeling that you shouldn't say that to Carmelita… _ever_. She'd probably regret seeing you as an adult and arrest you under the twenty-four hour holding law _just_ to be spiteful. A girl wants to hear that a man is mature enough to father a baby _emotionally_, not that he's going to play video games with the kid. Infants require a lot of supervision and work. You don't actually get to play with the kid until they're a toddler, at _least_."

Sly lifted his paws with a nod. "Okay, okay. But I still think having a baby would be pretty awesome."

"How, uh… how do you figure?"

"I don't know how to explain it. But I think it would be really cool. Plus, I'd be saving the Cooper family line."

"Unless it's a girl."

"Then I'll keep trying until it's a boy," laughed Sly.

Bentley deadpanned. "You're incorrigible. So, you're truly thinking about making Carmelita your wife?"

"Yeah, man, and that's why I asked you to go have lunch with me, today." Sly approached a street side café and pulled out a chair for his friend. He sat down across from the tortoise and flipped open a menu found on the table. "I want you to be my best man."

Bentley blinked and pointed to himself, mouthing the word, "_Me_?" He swallowed a lump in his throat and fidgeted with the other menu found on the table. "B-best man at your wedding? Sly… Sly I'd be honored."

Sly's cellphone went off. He lifted a paw with a raised finger then answered it. "Hey! Speak of my devilishly amazing fiancée …what's up?"

Carmelita's voice over the phone was just barely loud enough for Bentley to hear her speak. "Sly, baby… I uh… we need to talk."

"Okay. So talk."

"In person."

"Sure," he said in a good-natured way. "When and where? What's going on?"

"I'd rather wait until I'm with you in person. I took off work today and… I'm home."

Sly blinked. It wasn't like her to take off work, plus she'd never mentioned anything about it beforehand. Bentley gestured for Sly to go, whispering, "We can do lunch tomorrow. It's perfectly fine."

"Okay, I'll be right there. I'm two blocks away." He added, "I love you."

For some reason, she sounded relieved over the line. "I love you, too. See you soon." The line ended.

Sly shrugged. "Sorry, man. That was strangely brief. My bad – I'll make it up to you. I think she's just not feeling well and…"

Bentley leaned forward and took Sly's paws in his small green hands. "I don't need a calculator to see the writing on the wall, here, pal."

"What do you mean?"

"What were we _just_ talking about?"

"Uh, having another Cooper in the world."

"When's the last time she had her period?"

Sly thought for a moment then said, "It's been a while."

Bentley released Sly's paws and stood up. "Just prepare yourself on your brief walk home. She's most likely unsure and emotional and doesn't know how to react yet. My suggestion as a man and as your friend… take her into your arms, tell her it's the best news you've ever heard and tell her that you're… I dunno… madly in love with her or something. Penelope and I can't breed because I'm a reptile and she's a mammal so… you've got to do this right the first time. Do it right for both of us. Sweep her up in your arms and do whatever it is that women want a man to do. You figure out that part. I'm just telling you… be a smooth operator. Gut feeling, of course. If she's only calling you home because she wants you to meet her folks or something… then hey… no harm, no foul, right?"

"I'm serious, Bentley," said Sly in a good-natured manner. "I think it would be really cool to be a dad. I'm still young enough to enjoy it and all that jazz. For three days, she's felt crappy in the morning. She said she'd try and see a doctor some time this week. She might be calling me home early to tell me that she has the measles."

The turtle jerked away from Sly with a startled look on his beak. "Ueghh. Text me so I don't worry that I might be getting that from you. I mean it. Then let me know what day you wanna do lunch this week. And… thanks for the consideration about being your best man. I'm really honored, pal."

Sly grinned then backed out of the seat, putting his menu on the table. "I'd better hurry." He quickly scaled a nearby lamppost, hopped off and landed on the café's awning then bounced across the street and took to the rooftops.

Within a matter of minutes, he entered her apartment through the window and found her in the living room. "Carmelita! Hey, you sounded all out of sorts on the phone. So what's up?"

"Sly." She patted the sofa. He came to sit besides her and she feigned a slight smile then took a deep breath. "What I'm about to tell you is… it's a little forward and it's hard for me to swallow. I'm scared to death and I can't even think straight right now. I'm shaking like a leaf and…"

He placed his paws on either side of her face and kissed her nose gently. "I've had a little time to think about some things, Carmelita. And if you're going to tell me what I think you're about to tell me… well, what can I say? We played with fire by choosing not to be 'responsible'. But if you tell me what I think you're about to tell me… I'm excited."

"Excited huh?" She bit her lip and sighed. "I took a test today at work then took the day off and went to a doctor. I'm pregnant."

He wanted to throw his paws up in the air and exclaim, "That's cool with me!" But he remembered what Bentley suggested. Instead, he slid a paw beneath her legs and his other one went around her shoulders. Sly drew her into his embrace and he kissed her softly then said, "We'll make the greatest parents _ever_. We'll send them to college – anyone they choose. I'm content to make this happen and wouldn't want to do this with any other woman because _we_ are a _team_."

She felt emotional but he was saying all the right things to put her heart at ease. "A team, huh? Like your old gang?"

"No… a team. Like a _family_. We… are going… to be… a _family_." Again, he kissed her nose then her lips.

* * *

X

_Presently…_

**"You're… you're doing really good, Mister Cooper**," said Erik, watching over Sly's shoulders. "Whatever you're doing to stay focused… it's working. That's six in a row you've shot down."

"I told you, all I'm doing is thinking happy thoughts," said Sly, shaking off the memory. He reached back and patted the wolfhound on the shoulder. "Go check on Carmelita and your girl; make sure they're doing okay. Just relax, we'll get through this." He grinned a bit then said, "After all… we _have_ to live. _I_'m about to become a _father_, after all." He grinned brightly, as if he were gloating then turned his attention back on the bubble of illuminated seawater, hunting for his next target to shoot down.

Erik moved up to the front of the small sub and asked, "Mr. Cooper wanted to make sure you're doing all right."

"I'm fine." Her concise reply warranted no rebuttal, as she seemed far too busy at the moment.

The wolfhound made his way back into the center of the sub and sat down by Eleven. "It sucks when you have no way to help. I can see you're sitting here on pins and needles, too. It sure would be nice to have some way to help, huh?" He cut his eyes towards the clear hatch built into the deck that showed the seabed.

"Yes, well, at least we have one another." Her voice lowered as she continued. "Erik, for as much as we've rushed into our relationship – a real whirlwind romance for me – I really _am_ glad we're together. But for all the work we've done to get into that dome… I never really felt like I was in danger until now. And, for the first time," she paused from a loud rumble outside the hull then sighed. "I've never opened up to someone, especially in such a short period of time, and I don't want to lose this. I know we've rushed into dating and now we're talking about getting married but… what if we don't make it?"

"Then we don't make it," he told her. "Look at the bright side. We're still together. We won't be alone. Do you remember when we were fighting for our lives before we got together?"

"You mean when we were at each other's throats?" she murmured with a wan grin. "I remember."

"If we were meant to die, we would have died then."

"Don't be naïve," she said with a frown. "What of the man who survived the World Trade Center collapse in New York? Fate spared _him_? No."

"You're referring to the one who was in the paper because he died when the Ferry crashed in the frozen Hudson?"

Eleven nodded sullenly. "He survived one calamity just to die in another. And don't tell me it's because he had to do something relevant after September of 2001 and finished it before he passed. He was just a regular guy. People die when they're not ready or before they've accomplished things; it happens all the time and what have WE accomplished between then and now? If we die now, whether or not we feel accomplished, it's because it's our time to die. Of the billions of people on this planet that die – almost all of them leave something unfinished."

"We accomplished a lot," said Erik. "We established a relationship and fell in love. If we die _now_, we won't be alone on the other side. We'll have each other."

She grew quiet and put her head on his shoulder. The sub groaned again from an explosion somewhere off the port bow. She hated not having a way to help. She hated not doing anything. The restless weasel fidgeted and glared at the deck.

"Eleven, those two are so hell-bent on becoming parents that they're driven to survive far more passionately than your average person. They're going to do _everything_ in their power to ensure they get this sub out of this mess. If they survive, we survive. When all of this is over, do you want to stay in contact so we can help them if this situation isn't over?"

"While that _would_ be the right thing to do," she shook her head. "I'm a private person. I want to go and live a private life. I'll stay with the agency until it's time to retire if we can't find a better paycheck." She sounded as though she didn't believe in her own words. "Truthfully, I'm tired of being their little 'bitch'. Pardon the expression but… it's true. I'm not interested in killing someone they tell me to kill. I'm not interested in their stupid heartless missions. I wouldn't mind traveling, though. I suppose it's time we enjoy our lives together and stop worrying about how to kill someone, or using our…" again, she paused. The weasel chuckled and looked up at her mate as though she'd just had an epiphany. "What am I talking about? With great power comes great responsibility. I kill people and you manipulate shadows. We'd be stupid to walk away."

"Then what's our option?"

"We lay low but we fight whatever comes our way, because I'll tell you right now… we're not finished because that damn dome is still in one piece."

Erik tilted his head slightly. "What do you want to do?"

"If we make it back to port, we go and get everything we'll need. I'll write my resignation to the agency and we gather everything we can. We marry and we train. One day, we'll find that dome again, get aboard and lay low. We create a life for ourselves and act as sleeper cells. One day when the time is right, we emerge from out of nowhere and we do what we have to do in order to take down the dome and help whoever is attacking it."

"You think there'll be another attack?"

Elvena nodded firmly. "It might take years but… yes, I think this stuff isn't finished. I have a really good woman's intuition about stuff like this. We can even raise a family there if we have to… we'll lay low and blend in until the day we're needed."

Erik nodded. "If you truly believe that it's our calling… then we'll privately train and continue to work together so that if and when the day comes we have to act out against the underwater city from the inside out… then …like you said, we'll be in a position to help when it's time. How will we find the dome again, though?"

She smiled in a mysterious way. "We just spent a week there. I installed a tracking device that would show our exact location just in case I had to call for help, they would find us easily… well it's still there and I have the transponder unit. We'll find it, so there's no rush. Let's not go back until after the wedding and the honeymoon. Let's take our time and prepare."

"You actually want to _live_ there?"

"That's what sleeper cells must do," she murmured. "And I have this strange gut feeling that… I just… I think it's the right thing to do. You keep your friends close… but you keep your enemies _closer_."

"Understood."

Meanwhile, up in the front of the sub, Carmelita mashed a paw down on a recently installed button labeled, "Virtual Torpedo" in black Sharpie. The round rushed from beneath the sub and into her field of view, leaving a trail of bubbles in its wake. She leered at the muddled target in the distance.

The submersible attack droid came about for another rush but as it did, it struck the energy round and went into a spin. It clipped the bottom of one of the cigarette boats up on the surface, ripping through the keel. The droid came apart at the seams and the boat, above it, began to sink. Remaining ordinance on the droid went off from damage done by the virtual torpedo round. The resulting explosion pushed water upwards, flipping the cigarette boat.

Carmelita leaned forward in her chair, looking up through the windshield at enemies and equipment that was thrown into the water. She shouted over her shoulder, "Hey, guys, we flipped one of the enemy boats. I'm going to surface. Climb up through the hatch and do what you guys think is necessary to the survivors. If you decide to bring them aboard, make sure they're subdued first."

Back in the belly, Erik and Eleven looked at one another. They both appeared delighted to have the chance to finally help. The lighting inside the sub changed once the vessel broke the surface. Eleven was the first to the hatch, climbing up the ladder with her mate behind her.

She turned the locking wheel and pushed the hatch open then got up on the back of the sub. Erik climbed out behind her and they looked around at the open ocean. One of the motorboats was upside down. The propellers jutted up in the air. Water spit upwards a few inches from various parts of the bottom where the bilge pump was trying to do its now-impossible job.

Elvena elbowed Erik and pointed to an incoming boat in the distance. "This is going to get interesting."

The wolfhound lifted his arms and focused. The motorboat closed quickly. Eleven readied two throwing knives. A shadow bubble began to grow around the cigarette boat, covering the crew and driver with a canopy of darkness. Enemies on board began firing their guns blindly.

Erik grimaced, creating barriers of black. They looked like enormous dominoes, with several starting to angle further out in the water. A pistol round passed over he and his fiancée on their left. "I'm trying to use physical manifestations of shadow walls. Their bullets hit several and are angled away so that they veer off course. We wouldn't want anything flying straight towards us."

The boat continued closer, zigzagging but unable to get out of the shadow bubble. Impressed, the weasel placed a paw on her fiancé's waist. "Damn, you're getting good at this." As soon as the boat was in range, she jumped from the back of the sub. Erik closed his paws into fists, focusing to create a donut effect. The shadow remained on the boat but it opened up in an aura around her. She checked for gear on the boat then signaled to him with her paws.

Erik dropped the shade barrier; it dissipated rapidly like mist being filtered out of a magician's arena after a trick was set up. She threw several knives, performed a roundhouse on the driver and delivered a heart-stopping punch to another enemy. She took the wheel of the cigarette boat and drove it overtop of the other. Eleven took a flare from the emergency kit, opened the gas tank lid, lit the flair and dropped it into the tank then immediately dove overboard.

The wolfhound shielded his face in anticipation. The tank exploded, destroying both boats. Pieces of wood, metal and fiberglass went in all directions, spinning wildly through the air. A moment later, Eleven emerged adjacent to the sub, swimming towards the starboard side. He knelt on the deck and reached for her then helped her up on the back of the sub. "How's the water?"

"Warm for the first week of November." She pointed back at two people splashing around, as if struggling to stay afloat; they were survivors of the boat flipped by Carmelita. "I attacked two surviving men while swimming underneath them. I feel like I should go to church after today." She watched them with disdain in her gaze. One of the men became calm, sunk below the whitecaps for a moment then reemerged, face down and motionless. The other continued to struggle for a moment more before succumbing to the waves. His blood tinted the whitecaps around him.

Erik nodded. "It's them or us. Self-preservation doesn't make you inhumane."

Without warning, an armed soldier climbed up from the portside with a gun. The startled weasel reacted with instincts and training – she withdrew a knife from her belt and threw it hard. It hit the man in the chest but didn't fully penetrate his lightly armored vest. He groaned from the tip poking into his flesh but was otherwise unharmed.

The wolfhound clenched his right fist. A shadow arm came up from beneath the man's feet and struck him in the torso so hard that it drove the knife the rest of the way into his heart. The strike simultaneously threw him overboard. He landed in the water on his back then began to sink from the weight of his gear. His gurgling sounds lasted mere seconds before disappearing beneath the surface along with the rest of his body.

A sigh of relief passed Erik's lips then he turned to Eleven and said, "We _do_ make a good team, you know."

She nodded in silent agreement, watching the spot in the water to make sure the man didn't resurface. She nodded with a measure of finality. "There was another boat, right? Where is it – do you see it?"

Erik looked around and shrugged. "It appears we're the only ones left out here." He glanced back to the burning remains of two boats then knelt over the hatch and shouted to Sly and Carmelita. "I don't see anyone else! I think we got'em all!"

Sly joined them topside with a binoc-u-com. He gazed through it, scanning the area in all directions. His finger closed on a button built into the top of the unit. "Guys, we're all clear. Can you pick up our location and take us home?"

Murray's voice was the first to respond over the speaker. "You got it, Sly! We'll be there shortly."

Cooper turned to Eleven and Erik. "Good job, guys. Listen, I'll have Carmelita show you the controls for this thing. Why don't you guys take the sub and we'll go with the rest of our team?"

"Why would we need it?" asked Eleven, curious if he somehow heard their conversation about returning to the dome.

Sly offered a cryptic smile and passed the communicator to the weasel. "Somehow, I think you two might get more use out of it. Just a gut feeling." He climbed back down into the hatch, leaving the two alone.

* * *

X

_Nine weeks later…_

**Carmelita placed her paws upon her swollen belly** and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Nude and modest, her ears lowered and her tail drooped a bit while her husband wrapped yellow measuring ribbon around her waist. She bit her lower lip, wondering how hard it would be to get her figure back.

Sly showed her the measurement. "Big baby," he said. "The doctor wants me to have you fill out a series of yes-or-no questions and fax it over. It asks everything from, 'are you still taking your prenatal vitamins,' to questions about how often you're doing 'Kegel' exercises. Are you sure you don't wanna' just go to the office?"

"Sly, I know the baby is due any day now but… at this point, when I ride anywhere in the car, every bump and swerve can be felt right in my bladder. I'd rather stay home today. I'd rather be comfortable. If _you_ had a bowling ball sitting on _your_ bladder, you wouldn't want to go down that damn road, either."

Cooper shook his head, grinning at his wife. "You're still cute when you're mad. At least you're one of those girls who can pull off looking adorable while pregnant. Besides, you've been complaining about that cobblestone road for the last three weeks of the pregnancy. If we drive over it one more time, it won't hurt you."

Her gaze narrowed. "If we drive over it _one more time_, it's going to trigger me going into labor. Now c'mon, you goon." She nodded towards the bathroom and walked away from the door-length mirror bolted to the door of the future nursery. She stood next to the bathtub then, with Sly's help, she got into it and sat down on special plastic chair.

Her husband reached for the detachable showerhead, pointed it towards the drain and turned on the water until it got to the right temperature. "So how much longer do you want to stay here?"

"Until spring. As bad as I feel for the construction team building the new house up in the mountains, I sure as heck don't want to take a newborn baby up into the Alps during the cold season. It's January, after all." She leaned forward just a little and snatched something out of Sly's back pocket. "Month old mistletoe? Are you kidding?"

"Hey, now, you're undressed and I'm your husband. I could kiss on ya' anytime I want but… I was going to try and be funny about it… Okay, okay, I give… you caught me before I could pull it off." Cooper redirected the shower nozzle towards her while she relaxed in the bathtub pregnancy chair. "And for the record, having the baby in a hospital is actually _normal_, Carmelita."

"Are you _worried_ about having it at home? I told you we would be better off if we're below the grid until this nonsense with the CIA and that dome are ancient history."

Sly brought the showerhead behind her ears, starting on her hair. "I'm not worried. We did this in birthing class over and over. I can handle it. I just think that modern technology is a good thing. I want the best for you. If you decide you want that epidural or Stadol stuff…"

"Before you get into that rant about me having pain medication… turn around."

Sly handed her the shower handset and turned towards the sink. She verbally guided him to a bag off to the side next to a fish tank with a little burgundy Beta fish. He opened the bag, as instructed, and found a bottle inside that read, "Novex – Butorphanol. Synthetic Morphinan-type opioid analgesic." There was another container labeled, "Naloxone".

"While I have it incase I want it… it has to be given intravenously. But studies suggest that it's not good for you if you plan to breastfeed. So, as of last Tuesday when I read that, I've decided to forgo taking drugs of any kind. The other one in your hand is given if I somehow accidentally overdose on the Stadol stuff. The doctor says they're about to take Stadol off the market over in the States. At least the brand name version. Get over here and help me – no use talking about drugs since I've decided against them."

With a nod, Sly put the bottles back. He heard the liquid contents sloshing around in them. The raccoon returned to the bathtub, took the nozzle from her and went back to washing his wife's hair. He held the showerhead in his right paw while placing his left palm over her eyes, bringing it up towards her bangs. "So, how does April sound?"

"For moving our stuff up to the Alps? Let's have the boys take the stuff up there at the end of April. We'll go the first of May."

"I'll let Bentley and Murray know. Penelope will be flying the chopper full of our stuff up there."

Carmelita nodded, passing him the shampoo bottle. "That's fine with me. It's good to see them work together as a team without breaking the law. Having Panda and Murray move all the heavy furniture is a smart idea. I'm a little up-in-the-air about asking Dmitri to act as an interior decorator, though. I thought the idea of moving to the Alps was to lay low. If everyone who knows us knows where the house is, anyone can find out."

"I assure you, we'll be fine. I _want_ select people to know where the house is, just in case we have to call for help – at least then our allies will know where to go." Sly began applying the shampoo to her hair. She relaxed under his touch. He worked the clear liquid into her hair until it became a white frothy lather. "Isn't your approximate due date set for tomorrow?"

"No, it was two days ago but I don't need to be induced. It'll happen when the baby is ready." She placed her paws on her wet tummy fur, shifting her weight a bit in the chair. "Get off my bladder, Carmen," she said to her belly. The vixen kept her eyes shut as water ran down over her face. "She feels heavy as hell; lately, if I stand a certain way, it feels _really_ strange – like the baby could just fall out but… obviously it doesn't happen. All the books I've read say that's a normal sensation, especially for first time mothers."

"Well, then you know what to expect the second time around," said Sly with an unseen grin.

"Peh!" she exclaimed, sputtering a bit of water from the side of her maw. "Let's see how you father the first one before we talk about a second one."

"I'll be good," he promised, starting to rinse the shampoo from her hair. "Unless my Uncle Bruce is still out there, the Cooper family is down to one… me. And since my Uncle is supposedly too enamored with computers to look for a wife, the Cooper line is up to _us_."

"Yeah, yeah," she said with a slight chuckle. "Bentley found Penelope. It's strange to think that your Uncle practically pioneered data theft back in the 80's but that he disappeared without a trace."

"Bentley always said the best hackers can't be found." Sly moved the showerhead to his left paw and put his right one under her hair, at the nape of her neck. He lifted it up from her shoulders and began to rinse out all the suds, careful not to get water in her ears.

Again, his wife shifted. She bit her lower lip and murmured. "Ugh, she feels heavy." She felt soaked but attributed it to being in the shower. Her nose twitched, sniffing at the air. She lifted her left paw to Sly while lifting her right foot, using her toes to turn off the water. "Grab a towel," she said. Again her nose twitched, sniffing at the air. She dabbed between her thighs then brought the finger to her nose. She was too wet from the shower to know for sure but she had more than just a feeling in her gut… she felt… a strange stirring in her lower body.

Carmelita's eyes widened at the sensation of a contraction. "Aw crap."

* * *

X

**_Epilogue…_**

_Four and a half years later…_

**Carmen stood up on her tiptoes. **She held the cradle bars firmly so as not to lose her footing and pushed her small muzzle between the wooden bars, peering in at the swaddled infant. The colorful mobile above the cradle turned slowly, the motorized unit hummed where the wire went from the unit to the wall socket.

She lifted her head, looking at the turning gizmo above. Her ears perked then lowered in anticipation of thunder after seeing a flit of light on the wall across from the nearby window. She felt the low rumble in the floorboards under her feet. The lights out in the hallway flickered then another flash filled the window. The mobile slowed then returned to its normal speed from the brief loss of electricity in the house.

Again, the thunder rumbled, causing the tot to cringe. The baby giggled and lifted a tiny paw from a loose tuck in the swaddling sheet. For a moment, Carmen was distracted by how tiny his fingers looked. She reached through the cradle bars in an attempt to hold little Conner's paw but the toddler's short arm couldn't reach it.

As she reached out for him, the fur on her paw and wrist began to stand up on end as if attracted to static from a balloon. The mobile began to spin; she could hear its small motor revving. Her eyes lifted just in time to see an arc of energy-discharge lance up from her brother's index finger to the motor compartment above the spinning mobile. The little colorful objects began to lift in altitude as it spun faster. All at once, the mobile stopped and the colorful objects swayed on their strings in a clumsy fashion, due to the immediate loss in circular inertia. Thunder rumbled and the objects became still.

Carmen swallowed and backed away from the bars. Her ear flickered, the baby giggled again and an enormous crack of thunder startled her. She broke into a sprint as fast as her little legs could carry her. The hallway lights were out and she ran through the dark with natural grace, into her parents' room and, in a single bound, the raccoon-fox leapt up onto the bed. "Daddy!"

Sly Cooper sat up and rubbed his eyes then drew his arm around his daughter. Carmelita rolled over in her sleep. Another thunderous boom shook the house. This time, Carmelita sat up and looked around. She saw her husband holding her daughter, whose adrenaline scented the air. "Aww, is it storming outside?"

Sly chuckled softly, holding his daughter, "Hey, pumpkin. You okay?"

"It's thundering outside and… I went to check on Conner and the lights went out and I saw a bolt of lighting over his crib and…"

Sly turned to his wife, still holding his daughter. He grinned in the dim illumination of their bedroom. "Aw, did you hear her hon? She said _Lighting_. Isn't that cute?" He slid out of bed, holding his girl on his hip. Cooper wore pajama pants with his right legging hiked up. The colorful illustration depicted a popular Sony Playstation game, Grand Theft Auto, with the various crime bosses sketched in colored blocks over his legs. "I think you mean _lightNing, _princess."

As if on cue to his word, lightning filled the window. Carmelita saw what pajama pants her husband wore. She dropped back into bed with a groan. "I thought I told you to throw those out."

Sly glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "What? They're comfortable." He carried his daughter into the dark hallway. "Lightning over the crib?"

"The thingy doesn't spin anymore," she dutifully reported to her father.

Cooper stepped into Conner's room, across the hall from his own. He could smell something burning and approached the crib. He sniffed at the motor above the cradle's ornate mobile then shifted her back to his hip and reached down to pull the plug. "I think the motor fried from a surge. Power must have gone off, come back and gone out again." Again, as if on cue, the lights came on in the hall then abruptly went back out. "Like _that_."

"It _sounds_ scary," she murmured, pushing her tiny nose against his chest. Sly chuckled again, in a good-natured way, and put his little girl up onto his shoulders. He walked through the house, carefully evading toys on the floor in the dark. Out in the kitchen, he reached for a light switch instinctively but it didn't come on.

"Heh, right… so," he set her down and, just like that, the lights came back on. "Well… that was short lived."

"Why is thunder so scary sounding?" she asked.

Sly put on a pot of coffee, using decaffeinated beans then he went to the freezer. The raccoon took out an ice cube, shut the freezer then turned to face her. "See this?" He lowered to one knee to get closer to her height. "This represents cold air in the clouds, okay? You know how, on a hot day, condensation makes water on the outside of your juice cup?"

"Yeah," she said, "It looks like my cup is sweating."

"Right. That's called condensation. It's just like rain from a cloud. So this ice cube is our cold cloud, okay?"

"Okay, daddy."

Sly stood up and took the coffee pot into his left paw. He put the cube on the counter, got a mug and poured the fresh coffee into the porcelain container. He put the pot back on the heater, picked up the ice cube and knelt on the floor by her. "Now watch _this_," he said, speaking with enthusiasm, as if he were about to show her a magic trick. "Listen closely. My coffee represents hot air made from lightning, which is just electricity in the sky."

Her father dropped the ice cube into the hot coffee. The ice cube cracked loudly, splitting into halves. Each side was spider-webbed from the rapid change in temperature. Both of them experienced a flickering of the ear. "It broke," she surmised, eyeing the cube fragments in the coffee.

"Did you hear it crack? That's thunder… only it was on a really small scale. Clouds can be really big, so when lightning heats up the air, or when hot air and cold air clash in general, it's a much bigger sound – but it's still the same thing."

"That's not so scary, it's just an ice cube."

"Exactly! Not so scary now that you know it's just a noise from hot and cold mixing together, right?" He passed the cup to her and she drank from the side nearest to the ice cube, which cooled the liquid. Sly stood up and made himself a cup. "You're the only four year old I know that drinks coffee."

"I'll be five in just seven 'monfs' daddy," she said.

"Yeah, five going on _thirty_," he replied with a grin. Sly added sugar and creamer to his coffee then asked, "You want a little cream and sugar, sugar?"

"Sugar makes me hyper and cream is bad for your cholores-tor-rol."

Amused, Sly shook his head and said, "Everything is okay in moderation but I suppose sugar, right before bed, wouldn't be a good idea. Glad one of us is looking out for trouble, here."

"It's okay, daddy, you're still the parent."

Cooper brought a paw to his muzzle so as not to wake his wife back up with laughter. He took a moment to breathe it off then said, "I stand corrected – you're _four going on thirty_. Most people don't care for coffee straight, like that."

She looked back up at him, preened a bit and in her most grown-up tone, said, "It's the 'adult' way to drink it."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. I'm an adult, and I like cream and sugar with my coffee, my tea, my grits and just about everything else."

"It's only okay in moderation," she said, practically repeating what he'd just told her a moment ago. Her serious tone caused Sly to snicker. "Are you laughing at me, _mister_?"

"No, 'Carmelita Junior' I'm just that happy because you're my daughter."

"Well _thank you_, but just 'Carmen' will do."

Again, Sly found himself on the verge of giggles, tickled by her absolute 'grown up' conversation. "You about ready to go back to bed, pumpkin?"

"I saw '_light-ning_' come out of Conner's spinny-toy thing above him."

Sly shrugged it off. "I'm sure it was just a spark from the power surge. I unplugged it so it won't happen again, okay?"

"Oh… okay," she said, sounding relieved. "So he didn't zap it?"

Sly finished his coffee, put the mug in the sink and picked her up. She used the sleeves of her pajamas to hold her cup, one paw on the handle and one paw on the side of the mug. "Your mommy is the only one in this household that zaps things, sweetheart." He grinned and carried her back towards her room while she sipped from her mug. "You know, I'm not supposed to let you have any drinks right before bed. This'll be our little secret."

"I won't tell anybody, especially _mom_." She finished the coffee as her father laid her down in her bed. Her father took the glass and tucked her in. The lights in the hallway went back out again. She snuggled down into the covers. "That was short lived," she said.

Sly grinned. "You just repeat _everything_, don't you?"

"Nooo. A girl has _some_ secrets she keeps all to herself," she replied, having heard her mother say that at some point.

The raccoon chuckled through his nose, just smiling at her in the dark. "You're a trip. No, I take that back… You're the _whole vacation_, sweetheart."

"Mommy says kids are _no vacation_, daddy." Her voice lowered, as if whispering to her father. "But if I was a vacation, what kind of vacation would I be?"

For Sly, her rapid-fire responses were just too much. "You'd be a tropical vacation with Hawaiian flowers and palm trees and blue water at sunrise."

"What's a Hawaiian flower?"

"You," he said. He leaned in and kissed her forehead then added, "Good night kiddo. Sleep tight." He went back to the kitchen, put her mug into the sink and turned off the light switch, even though the power was still out. He left the hallway switch 'on' so that if Carmen had to get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom she could see. He popped his head into Conner's room for a moment then returned to his, surprised to see Carmelita awake and sitting up.

"What does that even mean, anyhow?" she asked. "_Sleep tight_, I mean. Is it better than sleeping loose?" she asked with a grin.

"Heard me, huh?"

"Barely. You talk quietly to her, which is good. Wouldn't want to wake the baby at _this hour_." She placed her paws on her hips. "Take off those pajama pants, mister."

Sly looked at her in the dark for a moment then shrugged and did as she asked. He stripped them off and tossed them into the corner. "There, better?"

His wife pulled the sheets back, making room for him on the bed. "_Much_ better." She paused to look him over in his state of undress then nodded in appreciation. "You, my good sir, can _stay_." She reached for her husband with a grin. Carmelita closed her paws into his.

Sly looked down at the matching ring-set. He ran his thumb over the engagement ring adjacent to the wedding band. "I remember the night I gave you this."

Carmelita's grin broadened slightly. "I remember the shower _after_ you gave me this." (_Occurs at the end of_ _Chapter One)_

"Oh yeah?" Sly reached for the silk PJ pants that clung to her hips. "I don't remember that part all that well… maybe you can help jog my memory and show me what happened?"

She lifted her rump from the mattress to help him divest the garment from her. "The way I remember, it happened just like… _this_." She put her paw on his head and guided him downwards. Sly's lips met her collarbone. With her fingers sifting through his soft headfur, she guided him further down. Sly's lips moved over her torso, down the center of her sternum. She shivered with anticipation. "Remember anything yet?"

"It's still a little fuzzy," he said, muffled against her taut tummy, "but it's starting to come back to me now." He continued to nibble downwards, passed her navel. He went further until he heard her warm breathy sigh of content against his ears. Stealing aside, the one thing he loved to do in life more than anything else… Sly Cooper loved to make his wife happy.

**THE END**

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X

**SPY COOPER** – November 28th 2006 through October 10th 2010

A/N: _Sorry it took almost four years to finish this story! I can be downright notorious for doing that, huh? Needless to say, now I just need to update Dawn of Progeny and finish THAT story. I know that I usually end my stories with a lot of craziness but… this is the second of three stories in a trilogy and, let's face it, most middle stories are anti-climatic at the end because there's a WHOLE THIRD STORY coming up! But honestly, I just wanted to end with something DIFFERENT than crazy wild action and stuff. I thought it would be sweet, cute and funny to add with depicting Sly as a dad and a husband. I took the world's greatest master thief and made him… well… domesticated! But if you've already read part three, Dawn of Progeny, then you KNOW what Conner is capable of, so you already know why Carmen saw her baby brother do what he did to the mobile. It wasn't intentional because he's an infant… but it happened. Also, I set the table so that Eleven and Erik are a little more important. _

_I also did NOT show what happened to the Moore sisters, but I'm leaving it open for later on. But I will say this… they were in their fifties, despite how good they looked. Yeah, they were fooling around with AJ, I guess that makes them 'cougars', haha. Anyhow, they retire. Saundra had a husband to grow old with. Cleopatra invests money into helping develop the internet into the modern phenomenon that it becomes to better spread both information and disinformation across the globe. _

_The old Ocelot that ran with Tennessee Kid's son… he learns of Conner and Carmen being born and brings the news to Bruce O'Coop then visits McSweeny, wills him the whole estate so that he has somewhere to go once his sentence is up, then goes home and makes his own funeral arrangements. He calls Erik and invites him to move in with Eleven until they're ready to implement their 'plan of action'. Then the old man passes away, happily, in his sleep. _

THANK YOU FOR READING! I APPRECIATE YOU TAKING YOUR TIME TO READ THIS STORY! THE FACT THAT YOU'VE FINISHED IT IS REALLY AWESOME! I hope you liked the first story, Lament of Carmelita, and I hope you'll like the final story of this trilogy, Dawn of Progeny. Having recently re-read all three, I have to admit that Dawn of Progeny was the easiest for me to re-read. Rather, I enjoyed it the most. I'm not quite sure why that is… but it was fun to re-read that story. Anyhow… Thanks again. You guys are awesome. THANK YOU for taking the time to read it! OMGZ I HEART U ALL!


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